


So Far So Good

by TheArchaeologist



Series: Apple of my Eye [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: AU, Allison Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Five is Klaus' son, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Manipulation, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Swearing, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-01-16 17:02:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21274655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArchaeologist/pseuds/TheArchaeologist
Summary: Klaus has been through a lot, especially in the last few months, but that's not going to stop him from rolling up his sleeves and giving his son the best (re)start in life.This time around, the rest of his family is coming along for the ride as well.





	1. 9th December 2005

****

**9th December 2005**

Luther won’t hold Five.

Granted, Klaus can’t exactly gripe at him for that. Babies aren’t the easiest of things, they wiggle and fuss and puke, and at the wrong moment they also don’t smell the best. Therefore, the fact that Luther hasn’t volunteered to take Five perhaps shouldn’t be read into all that much.

However, not only has Luther not held Five, but he seems to be actively avoiding him.

During the night, that’s fair enough. Klaus is the parent, and he and Mom have the late-night disturbances covered, with the additional aid of Ben whenever their brother is feeling generous and not relearning the act of rolling over and going back to sleep. He doesn’t expect Luther, or any of his siblings, to pick up the tasks Klaus became acquainted with years ago. This is his role, and he’s more than happy to carry the title of ‘Parent’ with pride.

It’s not just the nights, though. Luther keeps a wide berth at breakfast, and in the living room when they play, and at dinner, not to mention he steers clear of the bathroom and bedroom when the time comes for Klaus to tuck his son up in his cot and wander off with the baby monitor clipped to his hip.

It’s strange. None of his other siblings have reacted like this. Diego started off pretty cautious, but he’s now warmed up to Five completely, acting as a good distraction whenever Five’s being grumpy. Allison like to cuddle him in quiet corners, something that puts a lump in Klaus’ throat, and when Vanya gets in a certain mood, she’ll shadow Klaus as he sorts Five in the mornings or evenings. 

Vanya was the one who came with him clothes shopping for Five, timidly helping him pick out outfits and supplies as they waited for November to roll around. Klaus is pretty sure she’s trying to enact some kind of self-appointed penance for her actions, knowing full well that it’s her fault Five’s like this in the first place, but she makes good company, so he doesn’t bring it up.

With Luther, however, he doesn’t get it.

“Maybe he’s upset about Claire?” Ben tries, his nose buried in a book. 

He and Klaus are sprawled over Klaus’ bed, Ben’s reading material strewn around them. Five sleeps in the next room over, settled deeply into his afternoon nap, nothing but his odd sighs and snuffles crackling through the monitor.

No one was sure at first about moving back into their childhood bedrooms and reclaiming them. Vanya flat out refused to take hers, and no wonder considering how tiny and cold it was. Instead, she has one a floor up, overlooking the courtyard where Mom is starting to grow flowers, and decorated exactly how she wishes. 

Allison took her childhood room, but Luther has moved up to the top floor, picking one that gives him easy access to the roof and the view that provides.

Diego has taken a bedroom on the same floor but in a different spot, giving him more space for a punching bag, some weights, and a few dotted targets. He was the most vocal in giving Mom her own space, and it took them an entire day to move all her paintings and charging station into a nice one also overlooking the courtyard. Vanya always preens whenever Mom says she enjoyed listening to her practice through her open window.

Ben, unsurprisingly, decided to stick near Klaus, who all but claimed an entire corridor tucked away in the mansion. There is a total of six doors belonging to them, which made redecorating a long and lengthy process.

Firstly, there is a general playroom, which isn’t getting much traction at the moment but will come into use later when Five’s a bit older. There’s plenty of nooks and crannies within the house that Five could wander off to investigate and hurt himself, even if they are doing their best to childproof everything. Fingers crossed, providing him with a decent place to play will keep his inquisitive mind sated, plus it’ll hopefully give him the incentive to keep his toys in the same area, rather than strewn everywhere with no chance in hell of finding them again.

The second room is Ben’s. This is probably going to change as they get older, when Ben stops clinging to Klaus and goes to explore the world as an adult, but until then this is where he stays. It’s plainly decorated, but slowly little trinkets are finding their way onto his shelves, as well as books from the library.

There is a bathroom, and a little storage room with diapers and bottles and where Mom has put an extra first aid kit and children’s medicine on the higher shelves, and then Five’s bedroom.

At first, Klaus was worried it was going to look like the indifferent space Reginald originally dumped his son in, but thankfully Allison proved him wrong.

Given the benefit of knowing Five’s favourite colour, the room has been painted blue, and the curtains are a thin kind to let in moonlight, so he won’t be as scared of the dark as he grows. The furniture is all cream, and there is a large elephant rug on the floor made from a type of material Klaus can sink his feet into. In the corner is a rocking chair, and above the cot is a musical mobile that Five seems to be enjoying.

Finally, there’s Klaus’ room.

He’s still trying to work out how the hell to decorate it, so at the moment it sports random posters, odd doodled lyrics on the walls, and a large wardrobe. It’s such a mess of colours that when Ben first walked in, he asked if Klaus was trying to replicate the experience of getting high. Everyone else looked stricken at the comment, but Klaus had simply laughed.

Now humming in thought, Klaus taps his fingers against his stomach, listening to Ben turn another page as he stares up at the ceiling, his feet hanging off the edge.

“I don’t think he and Claire ever met.” He sighs, trying to remember when Claire was born, and when Luther was sent to the moon. “I know he’s sad for Allison, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be iffy about Five from that.”

Something inside curls unhappily at the thought of Allison. They’ve talked at great length together, and Klaus knows she’s not holding anything against either him nor Five, but that doesn’t help the fact that she’s lost her daughter, and she has been noticeably quieter and distant the last few months.

“Perhaps he’s just funny about babies.” Ben sighs, rolling from laying on his stomach to his back, holding his book above his head. “Luther probably hasn’t been around them before. I imagine he’s still going to be hung up about Reginald as well. Give him time.”

Gnawing on his lip, Klaus sighs, and absently grabs one of Ben’s discarded tomes. He strikes lucky, finding it to be some kind of comic thing instead of the more boring, brain-hurting novels his brother enjoys ingesting.

However, as the days continue to progress, the questions remain lingering in the back of his mind. 

Five is his usual, babbly, bright self, squealing loudly when Diego takes swinging him wildly from side-to-side as Klaus has several hundred heart attacks. Luther laughs from the other side of the room, but still he keeps at minimum an arm’s length away from Five at any given time. Even Allison seems to have picked up on it now, constantly shoving herself in between Luther and Five as if Luther’s expecting Five to grow fangs and snap his hand off.

Eventually, Klaus can’t take it anymore.

He waits for the right moment to pounce.

It comes to him one lazy Sunday afternoon. Diego and Allison are outside with Vanya as she practices her powers, and Mom’s elbow deep in laundry that she insists she can do herself. Ben has wondered off somewhere, most probably the library, and Luther has unknowingly left himself open to attack by sitting alone on the floor of the living room, slowly working on a small model of a World War airplane, the intricate pieces strewn about on the coffee table.

Bouncing Five in his arms, Klaus whispers to him, “Let’s go surprise your Uncle Luther, yeah?”

Five eats his fingers.

Waltzing around the corner, Klaus beams at Luther as if shocked to find him there, strolling up with confidence as his brother’s shoulders suddenly hunch in on themselves.

“Well, afternoon, dearest sibling.” Klaus titters, standing over Luther and examining his work. “And what are you up to?”

“Um, Dad never let me do many of these.” Luther awkwardly pokes at the lid to the kit’s box. “But I always collected them under my bed anyway. Figured I’d finally make them.”

Sending a mental middle finger to wherever the bastard they once called a father ended up, Klaus sits on the couch behind Luther, adjusting Five so he’s sat propped up on his lap. Luther eyes the infant before quickly switching his gaze to him.

Nodding at the plane, Klaus asks, “That a war one, right?”

Luther blinks. “How’d you know?”

Klaus bounces Five on his knee gently, and the baby giggles. “This one. He had to do a project on it once. Wouldn’t let me help, mind you, but his library books were everywhere, and he talked my ear off complaining about the rest of his work group.”

A hint of a laugh crosses Luther, but it quickly disappears as his brother turns his back, fiddling with the paintbrush he was using to add glue.

“I’m sorry.”

Klaus blinks. “What for?”

“You must miss him. Not, uh,” Luther gestures awkwardly at Five, who becomes intrigued at the waving hand in front of his face, “But, you know, Five being-”

“Five the thirteen-year-old boy I raised alone?” Klaus finishes for him, and yes, he would be lying through his teeth if he said he didn’t miss the cheeky, loving, brilliant child that was his and his alone. 

That Five probably isn’t coming back, not in the same way, not with the same life experiences and intimate moments when it was just him, Klaus, and Ben against the world. There would be no more memories of days in the park, or stories at the public library. There would be no recollections of the Father’s Days they spent together, or the time when Five was about eight and they got caught in torrential rain and had to use empty bin bags as makeshift coats to walk home in. Briefly, Klaus wonders if Five will continue to have a fear of rats, now he doesn’t have The Incident lodged in the centre of his brain to remember forever.

The thought of it leaves an ache inside his chest which is only minimally lesser than the stabbing he felt when he thought Five was dead, and Klaus doesn’t know if he should be grateful for that.

However, Klaus is here on a mission, and he’s not going to let Luther derail him.

Sucking in a breath, Klaus rubs his thumb against Five, making the baby gargle. “I do, I _really_ do, but that’s not your fault.”

Luther pulls a face, one that probably means he thinks it is, but that’s a completely different conversation and one for another time. Right now, Klaus has an objective, and like shit is he letting Five go without aunts and uncles a second time around.

Selfishly, Klaus needs the babysitters, but he also knows that down the line Five will become intrigued with his powers and having a support network of people who understand and aren’t his Dad will help with that.

Adjusting his grip on Five, Klaus leans down and sets the baby’s feet on the floor, making his son blink and coo in confusion. Luther stiffens, and attempts to subtly shuffle away.

As Five bats his feet against the rug, seemingly fascinated by his own exposed toes, Klaus fixes his brother with a look. “He won’t bite, you know.” 

“I know!” Luther says indignantly, but also flushing with embarrassment. “He’s a baby! He doesn’t have teeth.”

“Yep.” Grinning smugly, Klaus goes to hand Five to Luther. “Here you go!”

Luther yelps. “What? Why? He’s fine!”

“He wants to say hello to his Uncle Luther, don’t you Five?”

Five, ever the obedient son, garbles at Luther curiously.

“Klaus-”

“Luther,” Klaus tuts, “It’s fine, just take him.”

Knocking the coffee table in his effort to get away, Luther holds his hands up, trying to keep Klaus from pressing Five against him.

“No, he’s…I’ll…”

Getting to his knees on the floor, Klaus tries to position Five against Luther’s shoulder. “I’ll show you how to hold him, look, it’s easy, you just-”

“But I’ll hurt him!” Luther snaps, loudly, startling both Klaus and Five.

Frowning, Klaus brings Five back, settling over his shoulder and patting his back as Five starts to sniffle threateningly. Luther is frozen in front of him, complete panic on his face and plane model knocked to the floor.

Klaus hopes it’s not too badly damaged.

“What do you mean you’ll hurt him?”

“It…I…” Luther’s eyes dart from him to Klaus and back again, growing paler as Five continues to try and work himself up into crying.

Chewing on his tongue, Klaus brings Five around, his back is against Klaus’ chest and giving Luther full view of Five’s face. “He’s fine. He does this sometimes, when he can’t decide if he wants to be upset or not. Give him a minute.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Why do you think you’ll hurt him?”

Luther nibbles at his lip, his shoulders hunched in around him and looking impossibly small next to Klaus. For a moment his gaze turns to his model, and he rights it, setting it back onto the table.

“Dad…Reginald used to say I would.”

Klaus tilts his head, frowning. “He’d say you’d hurt Five?”

Luther nods slowly. “I…I don’t know how much you remember, when Five arrived…”

“Not a lot.” Klaus admits, not entirely pleased about that fact but owning it anyway for the moment. “I know Reginald told us not to go near him, and we didn’t talk about Five being here. At least, not until after that breakfast.”

The breakfast when Reginald announced his son’s legal name, the breakfast when Klaus came the closest to physically lashing out at his father for the first time in his life.

Boy, did _that_ set a trend.

Luther picks at the nail of his thumb. “He said I couldn’t control my strength properly yet, or can’t, at the age we are now, I mean, and, um,” He glances at Five and then away again, “Babies have really fragile bones. He said I’m likely to either cave in Five’s skull or rip off a limb if I touch him.”

Christ on a fucking _cracker_, who the hell let this man have children?

An anger wells up in Klaus, one that’s strangely parental over his taller, broader, and one day, more successful brother. When they were children, it was easy to view their Number One through the forced lens of a leader, a snitch, a boy from who they had to follow commands or be punished later. Now, with the advantage of hindsight and parenthood, Klaus can see that Luther is, despite being mentally older, just a kid. He is a gangly, awkward kid, who doesn’t really know what to do with himself and is just as jittery as Ben over his powers.

It took the end of the world for him to see it, but Luther’s self-conscious and impressionable as hell, and he still has the ridiculous lessons of Reginald floating around his brain.

Klaus fixes Luther with a look. “I can guarantee you’re not going to hurt Five simply from holding him.”

Luther’s face twists. “You don’t know that-”

“I do.” Klaus states with conviction.

“How-”

“Have you seen what you were just doing?” Shifting Five so he’s tucked in the crook of one elbow, Klaus plucks up the model from the table and holds it up. “Luther, are you honestly telling me someone who can make something like this can’t control their strength?”

The fiddly pieces of wood gleam with their fresh paint, the tiny propellers gently spinning as the model tips at an angle. The wheels sit perfectly beneath the miniature craft, and the wings have been so expertly glued into place that there is no hint that they weren’t there to begin with.

Luther’s eyes shift over the model, and Klaus can see the gears ticking behind them. 

“Yes.” His brother finally says, almost for the sake of it, and Klaus almost snorts with how much it sounds like Five, only to then gulp down the wave of grief that swiftly follows. 

He makes a show of rolling his eyes and tuts, “No, Luther, the answer is _no_. The fact is that you learnt to control your strength when we were, what? Eight? Nine? You hadn’t broken anything accidentally for years when Five came along, the most you did was dent a wall, I think.”

Granted, Klaus had been high for most of their teens, but he’s certain he can remember when Luther stopped snapping things in two on accident, because it was before Reginald sent his to the mausoleum which means it was before the drugs.

There’s an expression on his brother’s face, vulnerable and open, as if Luther truly is a lost seventeen-year-old and Klaus the parent of the situation, Luther’s young brain soaking in absolutely everything Klaus is telling him with an almost religious reverence. It makes Klaus’ stomach sink.

Without a word, Klaus places the model back onto the table and adjusts Five, easing his son across so his front is against Luther’s chest, his head over peering out over the shoulder curiously in the aimless way babies do. His feet kick happily, all traces of the startled shock erased from his mind.

Klaus takes Luther’s wrist when his brother remains stiffly frozen, positioning it. “Hold one hand under him like this, and then this one,” Klaus manipulates Luther’s fingers, “Goes behind his head like this.”

Backing away, Klaus lets Luther take Five’s weight alone.

“Oh.” Luther says, quiet and small and somewhat awed. His eyes are wide, and as Five squirms he naturally copies the bouncing movement he’s seen Klaus do so many times now. “Hi.” He whispers to Five.

Klaus beams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here we go again!
> 
> Remember these time stamps were important last time? Well, the trend continues....
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


	2. 25th December 2005

****

**25th December 2005**

There are a lot of things Ben enjoys about being alive.

Breathing is nice, and the sensation of waking up knowing you can stay in bed for another hour is pretty damn good as well. Having a sense of smell again is bizarre, because Ben can’t remember the world being so crammed full with perfumes and aromas and stenches before, but it’s a small implication of life that he’s willing to make the most of, even if everyone else barely pays any attention to it.

Water is weird. Klaus thinks _he’s_ weird for thinking as much, but the truth remains. Water is weird. It doesn’t even taste of anything. How can something taste of absolute nothingness?

Flavours are overbearing but amazing, and Ben could quite happily eat an entire bag of hard-chew sweets just for the explosion across his tongue and the headache in his forehead. Mom, in her detached, sympathetic way, told him that he will get used to things eventually and to take it slow, but considering that she seems to be playing along with the ‘death’ thing Ben is sure she’s simply making things up as she goes.

Anyway, Ben’s been dead for years, he’s entitled to some overindulgence. He missed his rebellious teenage phase the first time around.

With the good, however, come the bad, and Ben has slipped into the old paranoia of The Horror releasing itself against his will like a shaky elderly hand in an aging glove. As a ghost, it was easy to ignore their discontented wiggling, safe in the knowledge that unless Klaus made him corporeal the creature was completely powerless and unable to lash out and grab the nearest innocent body.

Reginald’s notes left everything to be desired, just as unsettled as Ben at the lack of control he had over when and how the tentacles went about their business. He didn’t seem all that interested in finding anything to properly help with that, either, all his scribbled ideas running on the same track as Klaus and the mausoleum.

Ben and Vanya have been talking a lot, recently.

It’s nice to finally have someone who can understand on a more intimate level.

The closet thing Ben had to that growing up the first time was Luther, and his initial inability to keep his natural strength under control. There had been a decent period where it was the norm to find door handles crumpled, forks bent, and dents in the wall from where Luther had tripped and caught himself. Mom had to fix Luther’s showerhead multiple times until he managed to gain a cap on it.

Luther had tried to understand Ben’s plight, more often than not in an overbearing, Number One way Reginald enforced, but there’s a difference between having a power requiring great caution and something so unbelievably wild that it could literally rip you in two, and their moments of understanding ultimately didn’t last for very long.

Vanya gets it. 

She eventually won’t as she continues to practice her powers, but for now she gets it, and they’ve developed a knowing look to send one another when it’s one of _those_ days. Those days, where everything feels raw, like buzzing static just below the skin. As if the smallest of touches could spark and catch and send the whole fire ablaze with raging fury.

It’s a look Ben shoots her now, as they gather in the entranceway pulling on their coats and scarfs and hats.

She makes a face and rubs a hand up and down his arm. “You’re fine.”

“You don’t know that.” He counters, watching Diego struggle with the zip of his coat as it gets stuck on the knitted material of his festive sweater. “I can feel them, they’re-”

“Reacting to you working yourself up.” Vanya finishes, lowly so the others don’t hear. “Breathe, Ben. Don’t concentrate on them, concentrate on _him_.”

She pats a gloved hand over Five’s soft hair, making the baby strapped to Ben’s chest blink up at her with wide, slightly aimless eyes. His feet kick absently against Ben’s stomach, so close to something so dangerous and not even knowing it.

Diego continues to struggle.

Gulping, a strange habit Ben developed years ago in a useless attempt to keep The Horror down in his body and under control, he takes Five hand. It has yet to be covered in the tiny yellow mittens Klaus is currently trying to find in the nursery, allowing him to rub his thumb over the backs of Five’s digits.

Logically, Ben knows Five was this small the first time around. There’s nothing about the timeline that would have changed that, and Five will continue to grow exactly as he did in what they have dubbed as Timeline One.

This, however, doesn’t mean Ben can’t think that he looks like a baby panda that’s stumbled out the den too soon.

Perhaps it’s the fact that Ben never had the chance to hold him at this age. It wasn’t until Five was one that Klaus first manifested him, and even then, it took a while for them to have any confidence that Ben could hold Five without dropping him suddenly as he faded back to ghost. There had been short, on-the-floor cuddles, and small moments of eye contact, but it wasn’t until Five was up and walking that Ben finally had the chance to interact with his nephew.

Now, Ben’s stands in the Academy, Five buckled into the harness and tucked snugly against his chest, watching as they get ready to head out.

Luther attempts to help Diego with his zipper. It breaks.

Across the room, Allison frowns thoughtfully at Ben. “_You_ know where we’re going, don’t you?”

Ben allows a smug grin to fall over his face, pushing his fears of the tentacles as deep down as they are. “Yep.”

“But you’re not going to tell us, are you?”

“Nope.”

“I forgot how annoying you could be.” Allison states, crossing her arms. There’s a small twinkle to her eye, one that’s not been there for a while.

“I spent years with Klaus, do you honestly expect me not to come out of that unharmed?”

“Hey!” Klaus protests from where he’s clattering down the stairs, Five’s mittens in hand. “I could say the very same to you, brother-o-mine.”

“We’re talking about negative impacts, Klaus.” Allison says, but her lips are twisted up into a small, cheeky grin. “Not positive ones.”

Klaus, in complete good humour, gasps, looking to Five. “Do you see how I’m bullied here, Five? They’re so mean to me.”

“Five totally agrees.” Vanya pipes up, her face displaying confidence at joining in with their jests while her eyes speak otherwise. Ben puts a hand on her shoulder and nods wisely. Five drools.

“My own son, turning against me.” Shaking his head, Klaus wipes an imaginary tear from his face. “Why did it have to come to this?”

Mom helps Diego put on a different coat while Luther hovers anxiously.

Shimmying over, Klaus fiddles with the mittens and gently takes one of Five’s hands, carefully working the small gloves into place while cooing nonsense at the baby. Five takes it in his stride, though the moment Klaus lets go one of the mittens immediately finds itself in Five’s mouth, the material soaking in spit as Five’s tongue and toothless gums explore the texture.

Eventually, they’re all ready.

Klaus leads the way out the Academy, guiding them out onto the quiet streets emptied for the festivities of Christmas Day. Few cars drive by, those which do filled with people dressed up and ready for an afternoon of in-laws and family and probably drunken board games and their resulting arguments.

Five babbles and gapes and fidgets, shifting almost constantly in the blankets he’s been tucked into. His cheeks glow red, and Ben adjusts his coat so Five has access to his own body heat. When the first flickers of snow start to drift down from the sky, Five watches those closest to him in fascination.

“So, where are we going?” Diego asks Klaus, who is busy humming recently learnt Christmas tunes to himself.

“You’ll see!”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s snowing and I’m pretty sure babies aren’t meant to be in the cold forever.”

Klaus bats him away. “He’s fine. He’s got more layers on than last time, haven’t you, Hawaii Five-O?”

“Hawaii Five-O?” Diego echoes.

Raising an eyebrow, Ben smirks at Klaus. “You’re keeping the nickname then?”

“Of course!”

By the time they reach their destination, the snow is falling thick and fast in large flakes, filling the grey sky with thousands of gently falling dots. The paths crunch with salt and grit already sprayed from the night before, but the untouched ground of the park grows thick and crisp.

“Oh, wow…” Vanya breathes beside him.

It’s just as Ben remembers, all those years ago. People, their faces vaguely familiar from what Ben can recall of this day, emerge from their homes, their children dragging with them the sleds and toys they received this morning. Kids clamber over the frames of the park, forming lines for five minutes on the swing and spinning the roundabout with vigour. It’s muffled by the falling snow, but laughter and chatter ring in the air, bright and airy and inviting.

Glancing at his siblings, Ben feels his lips twist upwards at Luther’s jaw, dropped open from wonder and a growing excitement. Diego stands next to his brother and Mom, his arms crossed and attempting to keep his face neutral as possible, eyeing a small group of children throwing snowballs with more interested than the others. When Mom places a hand on his shoulder, he doesn’t knock it away.

Allison quietly watches the kids, trailing them as they race about, but when her hand clasping Vanya’s squeezes and their sister glances up at her with an earnest look, she offers a bright, if slightly tight smile.

When Ben turns his gaze towards Klaus, the warm feeling spreading through his chest drops as he finds his brother stood a little behind them, staring off at a spot across the park with an unreadable expression. His lips are pulled thin, and his gloved hands fist tightly at his side.

The weight of Five in his harness suddenly feels like an anchor.

As everyone goes moving forward, wading into the snow thick enough to reach the top of their heels, Ben wanders up to Klaus, nudging him.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, just, um,” Klaus’ breath puffs around his face as he sighs, “Didn’t realise what memories this’d bring back, y’know?”

Humming with a nod, Ben looks across to the path the other end of the park, perfectly overlooking the winter scene. It must have been exactly this time all those years ago that they stood there, watching families enjoy themselves in the wintery weather. They had been on a mission, if Ben can remember currently, to find somewhere they could warm up Five’s formula.

“I think we’d made him have a nap.” Klaus says, peering over Ben’s shoulder at Five. “Because we knew he’d be hungry, but we couldn’t feed him.”

“You did all the work.” Ben shrugs, watching as Vanya and Allison start rolling the beginnings of a snowman. “I just stood there.”

“You were there, that was enough.”

Klaus gives him a look, a little watery but tilting into something happy, and Ben returns it, snickering as Five’s feet push and kick lightly at his stomach.

Then, Klaus gets a snowball in the face.

“Come on, you two!” Diego bellows, already loaded up with his next missile. Luther stands behind him, breathless and with snow sliding inside his coat, but with the biggest grin imaginable. “You joining in or what?”

“Oh, it’s on!” Klaus declares, lunging forward to scoop up snow as Diego yelps and darts away, stumbling into Luther and sending them both tumbling backwards.

Five gargles along to Ben’s laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look guys I fixed that really sad Christmas chapter from ages ago, do you forgive me now?
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


	3. 28th December 2005

****

**28th December 2005**

Considering none of them knew the first time around, Allison wonders how long it will take for her siblings to realise she’s kept the smoking habit.

It’s not a _bad_ smoking habit, not like Klaus’ used to be. She can go days without one, and there’s never been that niggle of addiction begging her to have more, but Allison would also be lying to herself if she said she hasn’t noticed a slow increase in the number of cigarettes she’s been having over the last month or so.

Going out to buy a pack from the shop on the corner with the owner who doesn’t care about ID makes for a good excuse to get out the house, anyway, not that anyone knows that’s the reason why she’s going. It gives her fresh air, and freedom from the occasionally stifling atmosphere of the mansion.

Everywhere she turns, there’s baby stuff.

It’s down in the kitchen, with bottles at the sink and boxes of formula on the counter.

It’s in the living room, in the form of scattered toys and blankets, and the soft, itchy smell of talcum powder.

It’s even in the bathroom, which makes no sense considering that Klaus, Five, and Ben have _their own_ to use, yet Allison continues to find odd bottles of no tears shampoo as she showers.

There is random window at the end of one of the corridors, overlooking a dead-end street, and it’s become one of the few places she can have her five minutes of peace. An ashtray has tucked neatly behind the curtain, next to her lighter, industrial strength spearmint chewing gum, and a bottle of perfume to mask the smell on her clothes.

It really is as if the universe is laughing at her, taunting Allison with something that will forever be missing from her life. Klaus has Five back, and she’s happy for him, delighted even, because no parent should ever have to suffer being away from their child, but at the same time, _no parent_ should ever have to suffer being away from their child, and unfortunately for her, Allison very much is.

There will be no miracle return, no reappearing in blue electricity or sudden births. Claire was the result of a long lifetime of actions and consequences, only a handful of which Allison can be in any way proud of. A lot of those cannot be repeated, it would be too cruel or insensitive, knowing what she does now and understanding the error of her ways, but where does that leave her? 

Without those mistakes, there will be no Patrick, no marriage, no infant to cradle in her arms and promise to protect no matter what.

In a twisted way, Allison hates herself for it.

This is her fault, after all. If she hadn’t allowed herself to rumour all those people in Timeline One, to let herself get away with what she knew was wrong yet continued anyway, the end result would’ve been very much different.

She wouldn’t have had a marriage to cry over, or a daughter to mourn. There wouldn’t be this aching in her chest, so heavy it feels as if her heart is sinking through her feet, and she could sleep at night without memories of her little girl dancing through her mind.

Klaus is trying. He is really, really trying.

She can’t blame him, or Five. There was no effort anywhere to keep in touch with one another, and they’re all at fault when it comes to Vanya and the apocalypse. Even Five, the boy she knew for a mere handful of days, can’t be saddled with the responsibility. The window of time they had to travel back was narrower than a mosquito’s thigh, and Five had no idea when Claire was born.

Even if they did somehow have the leisure of sitting down and to discuss when and where to vanish off to, the choice would ultimately fall between Ben’s death and Claire’s birth, two events without a crossing middle.

Allison knows exactly which one Five would’ve chosen.

Sighing, Allison takes a final drag of her cigarette, before tapping the end out of the open window and squishing it into the ashtray. The gum tastes gross in her mouth, but she chews it determinedly, squirting a few puffs of watermelon scented air onto her sweater. No one has found out her secret yet, and she has no plans on changing that.

It’s as she goes to close the window that she hears it, an odd, quiet, snuffling noise.

Frowning, Allison leans out, following the sound down to the window on the floor below. It’s open, but not by much, cracked up barely an inch to allow in fresh air but keep most of the December cool away. The gap is, however, enough to suck out the ends of the curtains into waving at the empty alleyway below.

The noise calls out again, and now she is listening for it, Allison realises it’s the typical murmurs of a disturbed baby.

Klaus will likely deal with Five in a minute. He’s probably down in the kitchen and is currently making his way up to the nursery, the baby monitor at his side.

Closing the window, Allison stretches, sighs, and starts making her way down. It’s just reached two o’clock, meaning that Vanya’s probably going to be in the basement with either Luther or Ben, and everyone else will be off doing who knows what. She imagines Diego’s probably busy with his new punching bag he got for Christmas, and going by the smell wafting through the house, Mom’s busying herself making pie.

As she crosses the end of the corridor leading to Klaus’ little quarters, Allison picks up the sound of Five again, louder this time and definitely unhappy. Something inside her chest clenches, grasping painfully as a lump rises in her throat, and she pauses, her lips pinched together, and her hands fisted tightly.

When Claire was tiny, they took turns with dealing with her at night.

It was the only way they could manage it. Both of them worked at the time, a result of poor planning on their part, and neither could dedicate themselves to an entire night to care for her alone. It was worse when Claire was teething, because even at that young an age she knew how to kick up her temper, and Allison can distinctly remember spending many late nights and early mornings pacing up and down Claire’s room praying she would soon settle and go back to sleep.

Five’s too young to be anywhere near teething yet, but Klaus will have that to look forward to. Again. At least this time he’ll have Mom to assist with the night shifts.

A minute rolls by, and then another, and there’s still no sign of Klaus.

Five sniffles, not yet crying but steadily working towards it as he continues to go unnoticed.

Chewing on her cheek, Allison quietly wanders over to the door of Five’s nursery, putting her head through the open crack. It’s dark inside, but the window gives enough light to gently illuminate the crib and the wiggling occupant within.

There’s a sigh from the next room along, and peeking in, Allison finds Klaus dead to the world, sprawled on his stomach across the bed and limp with sleep. His hand dangles off the side, his fingers just missing the floor and the baby monitor that’s definitely fallen from his grasp. When she looks a little closer, Allison realises he’s forgotten to turn it on.

There’s no denying that Klaus has been exhausted the last few weeks. Unbelievably happy, because he’s got his son back, but any parent would agree that for you may love your child, it comes with a great deal of sleep deprivation, as well. Tired smudges have appeared under Klaus’ bright eyes, and most evenings he yawns through dinner and hits the hay at ten o’clock precisely.

Luther and Diego and Vanya don’t really know babies and seem happy enough to leave their interactions to the odd play sessions and giving Five a bottle or two. Ben knows infinitely more, but he’s never had the physical practice, and more than once Allison’s spied him looking a little out of his depth as he carries Five about. It’s one thing to watch, another to do, she supposes.

Klaus snores gently, oblivious to the baby getting steadily louder next door, drooling onto his pillow and breathing deeply.

It would be cruel to wake him up.

He’s been working so hard recently, with Five, with Vanya, with her. Allison knows there’s something going on between him and Ben as well, something only they seem to be able to sort out, though she suspects it’s along the lines of helping Ben readjust to being alive again.

That hurts, a little, not being trusted enough to help with that as well, but Allison would be stupid to say she didn’t get it. Her brothers have been through a lot together, it’s only natural they’d still cling to one another now.

Locking away the uneasy feeling in her stomach, Allison sneaks into Klaus’ room and sets the baby monitor on the bedside table before grabbing a stray blanket and laying it out over Klaus. As she leaves, she closes the door behind her, giving him complete peace as she enters the nursery.

“Hey, Five.” She coos softly, opening the curtains so she can see the baby clearly. 

Wet smudges line Five’s cheeks, and he’s wiggling like crazy on top of the soft blankets she helped Klaus pick from a catalogue. As she leans over the crib, he settles a little, but the small noises continue, unsure and unhappy.

With gentle, familiar ease Allison scoops Five into her arms, resting him against her chest so his head rests over her shoulder. He naturally curls into her, warm against the skin of her neck yet also damp from tears. Her fingers automatically start rubbing up and down his back, a quiet hum vibrating the back of her throat.

“There, there.” She soothes, rocking. “Do you need changing?”

Allison feels across his bottom, but it seems fine and empty. Five’s small feet, hidden away under the material of the baby blue onesie he’s wearing, push and rub against her. One hand reaches out blindly and manages to snag a lock of her hair.

Wincing, Allison mutters to herself, “Damn.” 

She’d forgot about that. Claire wasn’t much of a grabber, but that didn’t save her from the occasional unexpected yank, much to Patrick’s quiet amusement and her chagrin. Five is, according to Klaus, the complete opposite.

“We had to watch him like a hawk.” Klaus had said one of the first few days after Five arrived, tucked into an old armchair in the living room and trying to coax Five into taking a bottle. “Literally, anything in his line of sight was his. It was a nightmare.”

“Bugs.” Ben blurted, his eyes strangely distant and haunted.

Diego had pulled a face. “Look, he won’t find any knives, I promise.”

Klaus scowled at him. “He’d better not.”

Pulling her face away, Allison takes Five’s wrist, preventing him from tugging even more at his new toy.

“Come on, let go.” She says, trying to unclasp his fingers. “Five, this hurts, let go.”

Five stubbornly takes after his father and refuses, so Allison opts to for the ultimate parenting trick. Angling herself over the crib, she snatches up a random toy, a plush fish, and waves it in front of his face.

“Who’s this Five? Hey? Who’s this?” She bounces him, making the infant pause and blink slowly. “I think someone wants to say hello. Do you want to say hello, Five?”

Garbling a random string of syllables, Five lets go of her hair to reach out, brushing his fingers over the fish’s stitched mouth. Quick as a whip Allison flicks her hair away from him, adjusting Five so he lays in the crook of her arm and out of reach from anything else potentially painful.

Five reaches for the fish again, and Allison makes it swim towards him, bopping him on the nose. At Five’s delighted squeal she gasps dramatically.

“Oh! Did it get you? Did it get your nose?” She does it again, and Five laughs happily, all traces of whatever was upsetting him vanished from his mind. “What a polite fishy, giving you all these kisses!”

Babbling, Five squirms happily, and Allison lets him take the fish into his arms. The infant’s eyes immediately go wide at the texture beneath his curious fingers, dribble leaking out the corner of his mouth.

Allison doesn’t quite smile, but the frown that she’s been hiding for months lessens a little, watching Five explore the strange, exciting object that’s entered his world. Her heart squeezes, constricting in a way she doubts will ever fade, but she breathes easier as well, just a bit, just enough to let a little air in.

Hefting her nephew up into a more comfortable position, she says, “Let’s go find your Grandma Grace. I think she’ll have a bottle with your name on it.”

Five kicks happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Years later…
> 
> Klaus: What do you have there?
> 
> Five: A knife!
> 
> Klaus: NO!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


	4. 2nd January 2006

****

**2nd January 2006**

_Dear Annie,_

_I hope you don’t mind me writing to you, and I’ll stop if you want, but I thought you might want to hear how Five’s doing. _

_That’s what I called him, by the way. It’s a name that’s been passed down, so while it may seem a bit strange, it’s really important to me and my family, and it’s really special. I’m certain he’ll like it. I didn’t give him a middle name. Is there a middle name you’d want? I can add it._

_We spent Five’s first Christmas at the park. I took lots of photographs, so I’ll copy a few and send them to you. The boy Five’s strapped to is my brother Ben, and the one with him and the two girls are my sisters Allison (left) and Vanya (right). There’s also one of Five being held by my Mom, who’s called Grace and not technically my Mom. She’s been helping me a lot with Five._

_I don’t think Five knew what to make of the snow. He patted at the snowflakes a lot, which annoyed Ben because he kept hitting his face, but it’s probably going to be next year when he shows more interest in it. We took a picture of him with our snowman, I’ll send you that as well._

_His first New Years was underwhelming for him. Me and my siblings stayed up and watched movies, but Five slept through most of it. He woke up a few times wanting to be fed but was completely asleep for midnight. I sung <strike>old lang sigh</strike> auld lang syne for him yesterday morning though._

_Five’s taken to a toy fish, which is weird because I think he’s too young to take to certain toys, but Diego insists it’s his favourite. I think that’s because Diego’s the one who found it and gave it to him. I’m not sure where he got it, but he promised me it was clean when he gave it to Five. I made sure to wash it when Five had a nap._

_It’s a plush one that’s really soft, and according to Luther it’s a type of fish called a ‘copperband butterflyfish’. Luther likes to know official names for things. I’ve called it Sir Swims-A-Lot._

_Five has another soft toy which is a bat. For some reason my siblings keep giving him less popular plush toys over the normal dogs and cats and I don’t know why. This one is weird though, with a face that’s really squished and pretty frightening, so I’m planning on hiding it or ‘losing it’ at some point. I think it came from Luther. He’s still getting used to infants and I don’t think he knows what’s considered a normal baby gift. I hope he’s not too attached to it._

_Just to say, all the paperwork has gone through now, so you don’t need to worry about any of it. I know you know my address, but I’ll write it on the back of this letter anyway, and a phone number in case you need it. You’re welcome to visit whenever you want._

_I hope you’re ok after November._

_From,_

_Klaus._

_Dear Klaus._

_I’m fine. I’m glad all the paperwork went ok. The name Five is unusual, but it’s <strike>ok</strike> <strike>stra</strike> it suits him. He looked cute in those pictures. I like your snowman. Your siblings seem nice. I’m glad you had a nice Christmas and New Year. A fish seems like a better choice than a bat, but it’s sweet Luther gave it to him. Is Luther your brother as well? I like Sir Swims-A-Lot._

_From,_

_Annie._

_Dear Annie,_

_Yes, Luther’s my brother. I should clarify everyone for you, shouldn’t I?_

_I live with my Mom called Grace, but she’s not really my Mom. We don’t talk about our father. I have three brothers called Luther, Diego, and Ben, and two sisters called Allison and Vanya. We sometimes don’t get on but we’re ok._

_I’m pleased you’re well, and that you think Five’s name suits him._

_Did you make a snowman this year?_

_Five has started to make babbling noises and Diego’s sure he’s trying to say his name, but I know he’s not. His first words are probably going to be muddled among all the strings of “babababas” and “beeens”, and I <strike>kn</strike> read they’re easy to miss. The “beeens” gets a pretty funny reaction out of everyone, who all think I’ve been discussing ‘beans’ with him. Ben thinks Five’s mimicking his name. They all have a bet going for when Five’s older and starts to make actual sense._

_I’ve managed to ‘lose’ the bat plush. It’s actually at the very back of Five’s sock drawer, but Luther doesn’t know that. He thinks Five threw it out of his pram when we went to the park recently and has vowed to get Five something else to replace it. I’ve decided that if this next gift turns out weirder than the last, I’m going to miraculously ‘find’ the bat again. _

_Last week, I let Ben bath Five for the first time. I was helping Vanya with something, and time got away from me, so Ben volunteered to give Five his bath for the evening. He’s seen me do it before, so he knows what he’s doing, but that didn’t stop me from taking a picture of him afterwards. It seems Five was very energetic in the bath, probably aided by all the baby-talking Ben tends to do, and splashed about a lot. Poor Ben was soaked, but Five seemed very pleased with himself. I’ll copy a picture for you, and please note that Ben somehow ended up with Five’s shampoo in his hair. I don’t know how he managed to do that._

_Sir Swims-A-Lot was pretty wet as well, so we had to appease Five with a random rabbit he isn’t all that interested in while the fish was in the dryer. It came out really fluffy and warm, and Five had it in his cot when he went to sleep._

_If Luther’s next gift is weird, maybe it could ‘accidentally’ shrink in the wash._

_From,_

_Klaus._

_Dear Klaus,_

_I loved the picture of Ben and Five. No, I didn’t make a snowman this year. I live with my Grandfather, and he doesn’t like the cold, so we stayed in during the snow. I hope Luther’s next gift is a toy dog, because that’s not weird and all kids like dogs. You have a lot of siblings. I have a half-brother, but he’s much older than me <strike>and I don’t see</strike>. I’m glad Sir Swims-A-Lot is ok._

_From,_

_Annie._

_Dear Annie,_

_So, the results of Luther’s gift are in. He got Five a…_

_Dear Klaus,_

_I think a plush duckling is better than a bat. I hope Vanya…_

_Dear Annie,_

_Five’s been babbling a lot more recently. There are multiple bets going now…_

_Dear Klaus,_

_Diego sounds really funny. I hope he…_

_Dear Annie,_

_Yesterday we took…_

_Dear Klaus,_

_I really liked the picture…_

_Dear Annie,_

_Thank you for the outfit you sent Five…_

_Dear Klaus,_

_I’m glad it fit him. I wasn’t sure…_

_Dear Annie,_

_Remember you’re welcome at any time…_

_Dear Klaus,_

_Not yet. Maybe someday, but not yet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one part of the joke that sparked this whole AU that I'll continue to reject is the line, "Your mother, that slut!" just because it doesn't sit right with me in this context.
> 
> As a fun tidbit, on the 7th January 2006 in Timeline One, Klaus checks into the motel with a sick Five!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


	5. 19th February 2006

****

**19th February 2006**

“He’s going to cry in a second.”

“He’s not going to cry in a second.” Diego huffs from where he’s sat slouched across one of the living room armchairs, his feet dangling over the side and his arms crossed on his stomach. He eyes Five as he wiggles on his playmat. “Is he?”

Sighing, Vanya watches her nephew as he continues to make strange frowning faces up at the ceiling. From where she is knelt on the floor beside him, Five grasps her finger in his hand, an attempt on her part to distract him from whatever is going on in his tiny head. It doesn’t seem to be having much luck.

“Maybe he’s pooping?” She tries, pretty certain he’s not but suggesting it anyway.

“Nah, he goes red when he’s pooping.” Diego dismisses, perfectly happy to dish out commentary but somewhat unwilling to actually help.

The corners of Luther’s lips quip up into a hesitant smile. “Just be glad he isn’t, because then we’d have to change him.”  
Her siblings both pull faces at that, and Vanya adjusts so she is sat crossed legged, freeing her finger and then brushing a hand over Five’s forehead. The infant squirms more, the picture of disgruntled. His hair has grown out a little the last few weeks, but because Five can’t sit still for more than a second, Klaus has resorted to simply clipping it back for the time being. Today, he sports a little blue clip with white polka dots.

“If he _does_ start crying, what do we do?” She asks.

Diego shrugs. “Whatever Klaus would do.”

“Which is?”

Luther hums thoughtfully. “Hold him, I think, and try and give him a bottle. What time is it, anyway? Is he hungry?”

“Does it look like we know?” Twisting around, Diego gets to his feet, staring uneasily at Five as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. “It’s so typical, everyone else being sick. None of us have a clue what to do with a baby, and I had _plans_.”

“It’s not like they can help it.” Luther says, slipping from the couch to kneel the other side of Five. “It’s flu season.”

“And they need Mom more than we do.” Vanya adds. “I mean, we’ve all seen them look after Five, we can do this for a day. We’re adults, technically.”

Diego snorts. “Just a day? Do you know anything about the flu?”

Rolling her eyes, Vanya puts her back to him, leaning over Five and dancing her fingers in front of his face. For a second Five freezes, fixated on the strange moving things that have appeared before his eyes, but this lasts no longer than a moment before Five is back to unhappily kicking.

“Should we…Pick him up?” Luther suggests.

“Um, sure, ok, do you want to do it?” Vanya offers.

Immediately shaking his head, Luther leans back and holds up his hands. “No, no, definitely not. I could…No.”

Tutting, Vanya peers over her shoulder at Diego. “Do-”

“Not it.” He declares.

“What? You can’t just-”

“I can and I _have_.”

Tilting her face skyward and taking a moment to remember that she _loves_ her siblings and physically injuring Diego would be _very bad_, Vanya carefully scoops up Five into her arms. The baby makes an odd noise as she does, hiccuping, but he placates against her, curled into her chest.

Diego crouches beside her, humming, “Do you think that’s worked?”

“I think so?”

“He looks calmer.” Luther observes. Then he frowns. “Though-”

Whatever he was going to say is abruptly cut off as Vanya lets out a shriek loud enough to rattle the nearby furniture, pulling Five away as he promptly vomits all down her front.

The glasses and bottles of the bar across the room tinker as they sway from the sudden outburst of energy, the decorative tassels of the throw pillows on the couch swaying as a nearby coffee table slides back a few inches. However, it’s a credit to her siblings stumbling attempts to train her that Vanya’s powers immediately die down in favour of her face scrunching up in disgust.

“Ew, Five, no.” Vanya grimaces down at the lovely, milky-white sick dribbling down her top. “Ugh, that’s so disgusting!”

The second her powers settle and everything’s revealed to be fine, Diego, the ass of a brother he is, completely loses it, doubling over with laughter. He wheezes stupidly, spluttering curses and snorts. 

Luther, on the other hand, reacts the complete opposite, an expression of panicked alarm spread over his now much paler face. It lessens as she regains control, but he holds up hands up awkwardly beneath Five as if he thinks Vanya intends to drop him.

Five dangles, an indifferent lump of unapologetic baby, contempt and far more settled than he was mere seconds ago. Vanya’s outburst and the sudden wave of energy seemed to have had no impact on him whatsoever, and he coos in Diego’s direction, curious at the loud noise his uncle is making. His small hand hits against her wrist as he reaches about with uncoordinated fingers.

As Vanya desperately tries not to think about what’s currently sinking into her clothes, she fixes the infant with a half-hearted glare. “Thanks for that, Five.”

Diego, who is now on the floor, coughs, and then chokes on it.

“Do you think he’s ok?” Luther asks, now holding Five’s bottom so Five sits in his hands. “Babies do that, right? Unless he has the flu as well. Can babies get the flu? Does he need to be vaccinated? What if-”

Shoving Five into Luther’s arms, Vanya stands, pulling down the edge of her top and trying to pry the terrible warmth away from her skin. Five drools as Luther scrambles to adjust his hold. 

Diego holds his sides as if in pain.

Watching as she goes marching by, Luther calls out, sounding somewhat desperate, “Wait, where-”

“To get another top, Luther, what do you think?”

“Make him stop crying,” Vanya pleads, her head in her hands, “Please make him stop crying.”

“I’m trying!” Diego growls, pacing back and forth along the length of the kitchen. 

Five wails in the crook of his elbow, arms and legs flying unhappily. Luther stands at the counter, racing to fix a bottle of formula and knocking the boxed powder over in his hurry. Vanya, sat at the table, eyes the mess tiredly.

This has been going on for a full hour now.

At first, they thought he needed changing. Five did, but after crying all the way to his changing mat, all the way through the process (in hindsight, not unsurprising given he had three panicking teenagers arguing how to do it hovering over him), and continuing to cry once it was over, it was clear that the fact he needed changing was _not_ the issue here.

Next, they tried Sir Swims-A-Lot, because while Klaus insists that Five’s too young to have a favourite toy, they’ve all seen it work miracles and they’re not idiots. Unfortunately, Sir Swims-A-Lot was lobbed violently across the room and slid under a small coffee table, and Luther had to lift the furniture up so Vanya could reach it. Being unable to settle Five is one thing, but the wrath that would come with losing Sir Swims-A-Lot would be the end of them.

So now they are in the kitchen, Diego with Five because he insisted that her and Luther were doing it wrong and, “My powers mean I can judge these things.”

Luther tests the temperature of the formula against the inside of his wrist before handing it to Diego.

“Come on Five.” Diego says, his voice wavering with an edge to it, “You want some of this?”

His face red and wet from tears, Five fights against the bottle trying to work its way into his mouth, twisting his head around so it hits his cheek. Diego sighs and hefts him up a little higher against him, rocking back and forth as he lets a few drops of formula hit Five’s lips to try and tempt him.

Dragging herself up from the table and trying to will away her growing headache, Vanya leans over Diego’s shoulder.

“How does Klaus get him to eat?”

“He usually just…” Diego mimes shoving the bottle at Five, and the infant’s eyes, shiny with tears, blink slowly. “I don’t get it. We’ve changed him, we tried to feed him, he doesn’t want his toys, what the hell else do babies need? TV?”

“What about taking him outside?” Luther suggests from where he’s stolen Vanya’s seat. “Klaus usually takes him out most days. Perhaps some fresh air would help?”

Diego scoffs at him. “Does this look like a baby that wants _fresh air_ to you?”

“I don’t know, Diego, I’m trying!”

“Well try harder!” Diego snaps, the exhaustion of the last hour morphing into an easier, familiar anger. Five shifts a little in his arms.

Luther takes the bait, equally as tired and unwilling to summon the energy to keep a level head. “What do you want me to do, put sleeping pills in his milk?”

Silently, Vanya rubs at her eyes, trying to force away the headache with sheer willpower alone.

“I don’t know, but you could be a lot more useful than your being right now!”

“More useful? I _changed_ him! You two wouldn’t do it!”

“I was vomited on!” Vanya defends, “I’ve had my share of bodily fluids for today.”

Pointing at her, Luther continues, “See? We’ve both done all the hard stuff! The most you did was find his toy!”

Stepping between them, Vanya holds out her hands as if to keep them apart.

“This isn’t helping.” She says, trying to be as level as possible. While her brothers have not come to blows in a long time, not since the very beginning of their attempt with Timeline Two, the memories of Reginald’s funeral still linger in her mind. “You’re both going to work him up more. Look, we’ll try Luther’s idea, maybe being pushed around in his pram for a while will get him to sle-”

“How will that help?” Diego counters, rocking back and forth as if he has become caught in the momentum and doesn’t realise that he’s still doing it. “All we’re going to do is get him cold, and we’ll _all_ be blamed if he gets sick.”

“Diego-”

“Wait, do you think he’ll get sick?” The argument vanishing from the forefront of his mind, a look of confused worry, an expression that Luther adopts whenever he’s in Five’s general area, washes over his face. “How sick can babies get?”

“Wait, hang on, guys-”

Diego shrugs a little awkwardly, appearing somewhat put out by the complete switch in tone. “I dunno. I guess? I mean, aren’t their immune systems all stupid and shit?”

“Listen to me!” Vanya snaps, finally gaining their attention. She gestures at Five. “He’s asleep.”

The shock on Diego’s face is a picture as he stares bewildered at the baby now dozing in his arms, almost making him look like he’s surprised to see Five there in the first place.

“Huh.” He says dumbly.

Luther gets to his feet, peering at him. “Should we, um, put him to bed?”

Diego rounds on him, genuine horror engrossing him. “I don’t think I can put him down.”

“You can.” Vanya whispers, taking his shoulders and guiding him out the kitchen.

“No, I’m pretty sure I can’t!” Is Diego’s hushed but terrified reply.

In the end, it takes them nearly twenty minutes to get Five to bed. Every time Five so much as breathes a little different Diego insists that the infant is waking up, meanwhile Luther spends the entire journey from kitchen to nursery worrying over the noise of the floorboards and doors. Vanya is pretty sure she’s never seen Diego move so slow in her entire life, including whenever he was dragged downstairs for personal training or the times when they were ill and required to line up in the kitchen to receive a spoonful of medicine each.

Those moments of group sickness were among sparse times she was ever involved in anything.

When they eventually transfer Five from their brother’s arms to the soft blankets of his crib, they’re all exhausted, and Vanya’s headache has well and truly embedded itself into the base of her brain. As they stumble out the bedroom and into the corridor, she massages the temples, mentally begging it to leave her be so she can relax for a while as Five sleeps.

Diego’s the one who shoves open the door to the playroom, collapsing heavily onto the pile of beanbags.

“What’re you doing?” Vanya asks wearily from the doorway.

“Taking a nap.” Diego huffs, getting comfortable. “Like shit am I walking all the way to bed.”

Shrugging in resignation, Luther joins him without fuss, settling on a blue bag in the corner and instantly closing his eyes. Diego watches him with a lidded gaze, before turning to Vanya expectantly.

“We’ll hear him if he starts crying.” He says, as if trying to tempt her with the knowledge they will still be fulfilling their responsibility, and Vanya’ sags, stumbling into the room and letting herself sink into a large red bag.

“Fine, you win.” The lure of sleep sinks into her voice, making her sound dozy before she even settles properly. “Five naps, we nap.”

“Sound logic.” Diego comments around a yawn, already drifting.

In less than a minute, they are all dead to the world, catching flies and snoring while Five dreams in the next room along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Swims-A-Lot won't take it personally Five, I promise!!
> 
> As I said at the start, the dates do have a purpose in this fic (as does each chapter, there's a reason I'm showing what I'm showing.) It's probably fine, though. Nothing to worry about.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


	6. 8th November 2006

****

**8th November 2006**

“I can’t believe they all brought him swimming trunks.”

Behind him, Ben snorts, leaning against the wall and unhelpfully watching as Klaus kneels on the floor attempting to wrestle Five into a waterproof diaper. Spread out on the bench next to him are no less than five pairs of one-year-old swimming trunks, all patterned with blue backgrounds, cheerful designs, and smiling faces of various underwater creatures.

Eyeing the other swimmers wandering around the men’s changing room, Ben comments, “That’s what you get for throwing a pool party. Which ones will you pick?”

“The pair _I_ got him!”

Ben barks out a laugh. “Seriously?”

“Yes! I thought they’d gets toys and spoil him, so I was going to be really practical, but no,” Klaus groans, “They all had the exact same idea. Except you, of course.”

The musical keyboard which Klaus will absolutely loath come next week has been left at home, where the tinny tunes of _twinkle twinkle little star_ and _hickory dickory dock_ can’t hurt him.

Running a hand over his face, Klaus raises an eyebrow as Five pokes a finger in his direction, his other hand supporting him on the bench as he wobbles on unsteady feet and his lips sloppily forming the faint outline of Klaus’ words. There’s no real understanding behind the noises he’s making, only faintly decipherable syllables tumbling out messily.

The art of walking is still a work in progress, and Five’s yet to make the coveted first steps unaided. All Klaus’ siblings are on tenterhooks, convinced it’s going to be any day now. Knowing his luck, the lack of sharp, dangerous, dirty objects to grab onto this time around means that Five’s in less hurry to be up and about, and he’ll develop into a late bloomer.

A friendly bet has started drifting around the family, with everyone debating when it’ll happen and where. It’s one of several, the others circling the topics of Five’s first words, if he’ll continue clinging to Sir Swims-A-Lot or move onto another toy, and what’s going to be the TV show he latches onto with an obsessive adoration.

Ben thinks they’re all bored. Stuck in their teenage bodies for a good few years yet, there’s only so much fun any of them can have without adult supervision, despite their best efforts to wangle themselves into as much as they can. It turns out, even places like amusement parks demand an older presence to accompany them for certain things, or to give parental permission for whatever it is they want to do.

That did nothing to stop the stubborn confidence of Diego, though, who proceeded to spend an entire day queasy as hell after sneaking onto a roller coaster deemed only suitable for adults.

Whatever it is, boredom or something else, his siblings turning into miniature gamblers is an opportunity Klaus would be a fool not to make the most of, and naturally he has placed his money down among the chaos, if only for the laugh of it. His selected date for Five walking is the fifth of December.

He calls it a hopeful guess. Ben calls it remembering the date from Timeline One.

“Are you copying me?” Klaus asks Five as he continues to make vague noises mimicking Klaus’ tone. Grinning at his son, he grabs the small swimming trunks he’d brought earlier in the week and rolls up one of the legs, holding it out to Five. “Can you put your leg in?”

“Standing _and_ balancing? Ooh, I’m not sure.” Ben says, his voice light and playful and directed at Five. “D’you think you can manage that, little man?”

Five blinks at him and garbles happily, waving a hand.

Klaus tuts, taking Five’s foot and manoeuvring it into the leg. “You’ve distracted the birthday boy.”

“You’re just miffed the birthday boy’s not giving _you_ attention. I’m special.”

Muttering under his breath and finishing up with Five, Klaus leaves the two of them to pull faces at each other while he packs their things into a bag and shoves them into a locker. Ben strolls over to Five as Klaus faffs with the odd bracelet contraption supplies by the centre for people to keep their locker keys on. Whoever used his last obviously decided to mess with it, leaving the plastic twisting awkwardly in a way that makes it stupidly difficult to do up.

Still struggling, Klaus turns, abruptly halting at the sight in front of him.

“Eeeoo.” Ben says, crouched down so he’s at Five’s level.

“Eeeoo.” Five parrots happily.

“Eeeoo.” 

“Eeeoo.”

“Eeeoo.”

“_Eeeoo_.”

“Huh.” Klaus mutters quietly to himself, and if anyone cares to ask, it’s the floating smell of chlorine drifting in from the pool that makes his eyes water.

Ben missed this.

Ben missed all of this, during Timeline One.

Learning to manifest ghosts had taken time, a precious commodity which meant when Klaus was eventually at a level where Ben could appear, could _stay_ visible, and could interact with his nephew in a meaningful way, Five was much older than he is now. All these moments, these precious seconds of early development and connections, were lost to his brother. He was stuck beyond the veil of death, and for the majority of the time, he could be nothing more than the simple subject matter of stories told by a father longing for his son to have a bonded relationship with his uncle.

Klaus was always honest with Five about Ben. When he was old enough, he learnt the truth about their connections, that Ben had died and was now a ghost, and how it was ok to feel sad about that, but to be happy too, because his father had a special power which meant sometimes Five could see Ben and talk to him like he would any other person.

This didn’t mean, however, that when the moment came for the two of them to be introduced properly, when Ben could linger longer than a few seconds and Klaus didn’t tire immediately, that Five wasn’t as shy as a button. Klaus can still recall the way he’d clung to his leg; the same way he did the first time he was taken to kindergarten.

Ben, with his gentle words and kind smiles, eventually won Five over, and before long it was like there’d never been an issue to begin with. They would talk for hours about the events of the day, sat together as Five did colouring for both of them.

Then, of course, his brother went and spilled to gossip on Mrs Keller, like a _traitor_.

That relationship is now gone, vanished in the mysterious threads of time and beyond Klaus’ range of understanding. In its place is the growing love between a toddler and an uncle who’s been there from the very start, and who will be another solid presence in Five’s life that was never available to him before.

Much like the rest of his siblings.

It’s been bizarre, watching them over the course of Five’s first year, and how they’ve acted and reacted to the bubbly, bouncing baby that’s been unceremoniously tossed into the centre of their family dynamic. It’s the complete opposite from what they’re used to, knocking their understanding of life at this age is supposed to feel like. Allison might have experience of childcare, but she doesn’t as an awkward, spotty, lanky teenager, and the rest are completely out of their depth.

They’ve been growing, though, meeting every milestone at the same pace as Five.

Luther now holds him without thinking about it.

Diego’s previous whirlwind of swinging between extremely disinterested and overbearingly enthusiastic has mellowed into a calm, fun playmate for Five.

Allison smiles more, with less sadness sparkling in her eyes.

Vanya’s nervous hovering and looming sense of guilt has softened as she’s evolved, flowering like her control over her powers into something strong, study, a solid rock able to weather any storm.

Klaus has to watch what he says around them.

Before, the chatter of homelessness, drugs, and the juggle of affording rent and food while also providing for Five, seemed to be mere idle words to his siblings. Diego was the main culprit, the only one, apart from Ben, that Klaus really had any interaction with after he left. Now when he brings those subjects up, or jokingly references it without thinking, there’s concerned frowns, the downturn of the lips, and a heaviness to his siblings’ shoulders that makes Klaus want to swallow his words back and bury them.

This time, they know Five, and they know how much is required to keep him happy, healthy, and safe in the big wide world around them.

Ben once told him, during one of their nights where they crawl into the same bed to discuss the universe and the hand they’ve been dealt, that he finds it funny that it took the sacrifice of their old life for their siblings to understand what they went through.

“Not ha-ha, funny.” He’d stressed, when Klaus made a confused noise at him. “Just…Sad. I miss it. I know that’s stupid, because it was super hard and we wanted to do so much better for him, but I do. I miss the apartment, and the people, and Five’s school, and I miss him.”

Klaus hadn’t had the words to reply to that, so he’d just hugged Ben and tried not to let the thoughts stew in his brain.

A lump swells in the back of his throat, and he gulps it away.

“Y’know,” Klaus muses, clearing his voice and slowly crossing his arms, “I’m starting to wonder if you’re a good influence on my son.”

Gasping dramatically, Ben scoops Five up and stands, holding him protectively. “I’m the best influence!”

Five squeals, flopping over backwards in Ben’s arms in a way that has both brothers jumping to support him. He flaps his hands, giggling from his new angle and gaping at the floor tiles.

“Klaus, your baby’s broken.”

Klaus coos at Five, his fingers going to tickle his exposed tummy. “What’re you doing, Hawaii Five-O? Why’re you down there?” Sliding his hands under Five’s arms, Klaus snatches him out of Ben’s hold. “Ha! My baby now!”

Ben blinks at the sudden loss. “Wait, I’ve been tricked! Five, you betrayed me!”

“Um.” A voice says, and they both turn to see Luther standing behind them. He has his arms tightly folded around his middle, as if trying to cover his exposed upper body. “Everyone’s ready when you are.”

Immediately clocking onto Luther, Five garbles unintelligible words and wiggles to get down. The moment Klaus obliges, he drops to his knees and starts crawling across to him, making a few older men in the changing room chuckle in a way that informs Klaus they’re also fathers. 

Once he reaches Luther’s feet, Five sits back and makes grabby hands up at him.

In recent months, Five’s been doing the rounds of having a favourite person. His world still revolves around Klaus, but so far, he’s been through Ben, Vanya, Allison, and now Luther. With Vanya and Allison, Klaus suspects it has something to do with their long hair, a fact which neither sister was particularly thrilled about, but it seems Five’s recently twigged onto Luther’s super strength and the possibilities of fun that come with it.

Klaus fears the day Five realises Diego can throw anything and always hit his target.

A small smile pulls up Luther’s lips, and he readily accepts the drooling bundle into his arms, hefting him up onto his hip.

“Hi Five, you ready?”

Five makes a sound near enough to ‘yes’ that Luther nods and leads them all out to the pool.

The indoor swimming centre isn’t a huge place, but it’s large enough that members of the public can come for an afternoon swim without really having to interact with one another. At the far, much deeper end, a group of teenagers are making the most of a day off school by coming up with more and more complex ways to throw each other in under the watchful gaze of the lifeguard, while two elderly ladies wearing caps do gentle laps up and down, gossiping over trivial matters.

Vanya, Allison, and Diego have claimed a small corner in the shallowest end of the pool. The girls are sat on the edge with their legs dangling in, while Diego kicks about in the water, a teasing smirk telling Klaus he’s already splashed them several times. Mom sits on a small bench nearby, out of the hazard zone of the water and with a book balanced on her lap, her skirt neatly arranged around her legs. She smiles warmly at them as they approach.

“What a handsome little man.” She says kindly, waving to Five and smiling even more when Five waggles his fingers back.

“Yeah, must take after Annie.” Diego comments, and Klaus pokes his tongue out at him.

It takes a transfer from Luther to Klaus’ arms and ten minutes for them to get Five into the pool, but once he’s in, Five seems happy enough to sit with Klaus and pat curiously at the surface of the water. Sliding in next to him, Allison hums kindly at Five.

“Happy birthday!” She whispers to him, kissing his cheek, and Five forgets about the water to hide his face against Klaus’ neck.

Diego drifts over to them. “Is it true that babies can swim naturally?”

“Uh, possibly?” Klaus shrugs.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking.” Allison states, fixing Diego with a look. “And no, you’re not allowed to test it.”  
“I wasn’t-”

“Diego,” Klaus says, aiming for the best impression of his Dad Voice he can muster while still sounding like a pubescent teenager, “If you think I’m going to let you dunk my baby into a pool to see if he floats, then you need to think again.”

Hands in the air and backing up, Diego protests, “I wasn’t going to suggest that! I swear! I was just curious! I saw it on TV!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Back away from the baby, and no one has to get hurt!” Vanya calls out, earning a splash of water from Diego. Five makes a giggly spluttering noise as some of the spray hits his face.

Ben goes floating by on his back, aimlessly kicking his feet to keep the momentum going and his eyes closed. “I’m pretty sure Five didn’t know how to swim in Timeline One.”

“He didn’t?” Allison raises an eyebrow.

Humming, Ben pries open an eye at her. “I mean, he used to get cleaned in motel and public restroom sinks, it was never deep enough for him to ever get a feel for it. Our first apartment only had a shower, and the second’s tub was shallow enough that he could only sit in it.”

“Don’t schools do stuff like that?” Luther asks as he goes swimming by, content to do laps from one side of the pool to the other.

Klaus holds Five a little closer to him. “No. At least, not his.”

Five gazes up at him, big, innocent eyes confused as to why his father is suddenly clutching him so tight, why there’s a hand running over his hair and a kiss being pressed into his forehead.

Around them, the conversation continues, Diego lunging at Luther as he goes by and dragging them both under the water. Allison tugs Vanya in, and they both dart out the way as Luther and Diego’s thrashing gets wild. Ben scoffs and drifts away, and Mom chuckles from the side-lines.

Klaus ignores it all and cuddles his son.

They never did teach Five how to swim, did they? 

There was never the money for it, or anything like that. All Five’s extracurricular activities stemmed from school clubs, discount offers, or any free events Klaus found in the city. It was the reason they went to the library so much when he was little, because they could spend hours there reading stories or attending the children’s rhyming groups without fear of a price hanging over their heads.

That time of their lives was so long ago now, but Klaus has no doubt that dishing out weekly fees for swimming lessons would’ve tipped their delicate budgeting over the edge. The relatively little extra cash left over each month had been desperately needed, saved away for unforeseen moments and price hikes, or birthdays and Christmas at the end of the year.

In a twisted way, it’s a good thing Five never requested to join a sports team. Klaus always hated saying no to his face.

They never taught Five to swim.

They never taught Five to swim, and he’d lived through _an apocalypse_.

Klaus dips his head against Five’s, bouncing gently in the water as his son mesmerises himself with the droplets on his hand.

His baby lived in an apocalypse, and he didn’t even know how to swim.

Crap. 

_Shit_.

Did he teach himself? Five has always been his tiny genius, perhaps he figured it out, alone, with no safety net to guide him and unable to depend on others if he got himself into trouble. Klaus can picture it now, Five scribbling down all the mechanics of swimming, all the ways it should work and why, but lacking in any experience to understand how to put those numbers into practice, how to make theory a reality.

Five used to pretend to be confident, to be a sturdy, solid little rock for Klaus to cling to when times were tough, but he was soft underneath, gentle in a way that made Klaus so proud and long to wrap him in cotton blankets. 

There’s no doubt in his mind that, if Five attempted swimming, a lost, lonely soul isolated in the apocalypse, he would’ve been scared.

Had he wished for his Dad, in that moment?

As the others enjoy their day out, there small family celebration at his son, his _new_ son, reaching one year, Klaus dips a little deeper into the water to try and hide his tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, after posting last chapter: Was that a bit too much? Were the characters too generic or over the top? Was it too much humour? Oh no, am I losing my streak writing this?
> 
> Me, now: Lol nope
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


	7. 24th April 2007

****

**24th April 2007**

Diego’s experience with kids can be summed up in precisely two contexts.

The first, and the most common, were the ones he’d stumble across while working as a vigilante. Some were the victims of the crime, tied up or sat scared in the corner, and often Diego was forced to wait with them until the cops appeared or they’d shiver themselves into a sorry state of panic. Occasionally a few would ask him questions, but for the most part they would stand silent, sniffling and huddling in on themselves.

Others were less than innocent, part of the mob that decided to attack the bank, shop, house, and swept into the seedy business of their family. Diego saw them mixed up in it all, from gang violence and drug runners, to younger siblings shadowing their peers with misplaced looks of adoration. None of them took kindly to his interventions, especially if one of Diego’s blades met someone they were particularly close to. Luckily, the most damage these kids ever dealt him were bruises at worst, or a rare cut on the arm.

They were children going against a grown adult. Diego wouldn’t be worth his weight in salt if he couldn’t deal with an enraged, uncoordinated kid.

The other context was Five.

Not Five they have now, the child Annie brought to Klaus’ waiting arms, but the Five from before, the Five Diego only knew from the brief glances he caught when Reginald first explained the situation. After that, Five had been locked away, out of sight and out of mind, and only a few weeks later Klaus and his son vanished from their lives not to be seen again.

Not to be seen again for his other siblings, anyway. Diego had the highest interaction count out of all of them, considering he’d spotted Five spying him and Klaus from their apartment window when he’d giving his brother a lift. However, considering they didn’t even share eye contact then, it probably doesn’t count.

Neither does Five once he appeared at Reginald’s funeral either, because by then Five was an adult in a child’s body and perfectly capable of acting beyond his physical age. 

All of this is to say that Diego doesn’t have the best experience with kids, and when Five was brought to the Academy this time around, a squirming, pink, lava of a thing, he was left with no idea how to react.

Klaus, Allison, and Ben are the ones with any real parental know-how, but at the time they were all preoccupied with their own thing, Klaus and Ben fawning over Five while Allison drifted off on her own. Any titbits of information that were passed on were random and contextualised in the moment, and combined, he, Luther, and Vanya were completely out of their depth with any of it. At best, they awkwardly hovered to lend a hand where it was needed, and at worst they kept a wide berth, especially for the grosser things.

However, as Diego watches Five grow, watches Klaus grin brighter than he’s ever seen and Ben submit their nephew to a compulsory hug ever hour, he can’t help but want to try.

Five, when they properly met, was a snarky, cold, stand-offish mess of a person, completely the opposite of Klaus’ large umbrella of empathy and sympathy. He was pragmatic about things, rude and biting, and in too many ways appeared to be reminiscent of Reginald Hargreeves. It could be so simple, to write him off as some weird by-product of their so-called father’s reign over them, and to not give it a moment’s more thought.

It did deserve more thought, though, because Diego was there, when Five told them the truth, about the apocalypse, The Commission, the sacrifices he’d made just for a chance to get back and save them all. Diego was there when Hazel and Cha-Cha tried to prevent them from reaching Leonard Peabody, working surprisingly well with his nephew as they took the agents down. He’d even witnessed the moment Five decided to sacrifice his current life in order to prevent the end of the world, and the deep sadness in his eyes as he smiled at his father for one last time.

_“What, trying to make up for all the missed uncle-nephew bonding time?”_ Five said to him once, “You owe me a lifetime supply of presents, you know.”

Diego knew, which is why he wanted to make the effort now.

Klaus wanted him to meet Five the first time around, and Diego had snuffed the opportunity as easily as anything. He’d ignored the way Klaus deflated, and the knowledge he was turning his back at meeting another member of their family, because that’s what the Diego of that time wanted, and they were all selfish assholes determined to see their worldview and _only_ their worldview.

Still, there’s wanting to make the effort, and actually doing it. As much as he wants to try, Diego would be the first to admit he has no idea how to go about it. So far, he’s been winging it, playing it by ear and seeing what gets Klaus shouting at him (notably, babies _can_ be too young to be rocked about from side to side) and what gets him cooing over how cute they look (a reason why Diego continues to carry a single knife for threatening purposes). He’s better at it than he used to be, as are Vanya and Luther, but as Five ages they’re forced to constantly readjust what they know to adapt to their nephew’s growth.

It can be incredibly confusing.

“Is this…” Diego starts, sending a bewildered look towards Klaus and Ben sat the other end of the table, “What most kids do with their time?” 

They are sat in the kitchen, watching as Five slowly toddles from the table, where the cleaned dishes from lunch have been placed, to the cupboard. He stacks them away one by one, his bare feet smacking on the tiles as he meanders back and forth. Klaus normally insists he wears at least socks, but Five’s been having a phase recently of flinging off all footwear as soon as Klaus wrestles them on, and it seems his brother has now decided to give up altogether when they’re inside.

As he puts another dish away successfully, Five turns to them and claps, and Klaus and Ben instantly start clapping as well, praising him.

“Well done Five!”

“Wow, what a good boy!”

Diego just sits there and pretends he doesn’t feel awkward.

It’s strange, watching Klaus and Ben like this. Realistically, he’s known for years that Klaus was a parent, but Reginald locking Five away and then Klaus taking off meant that Diego never saw all of this, all the little comments and touches and parental guidance his brother offers to his son every day. Klaus having a kid always felt like an abstract thought, and the lack of contact between them only strengthened the doubts and disbelief.

Allison was different. Her pregnancy and child were plastered all over gossip magazines, TV interviews silently chatting on the small screen owned by the gym and odd comments being thrown Diego’s way by the few of the cops he was friendly with. Claire, unlike Five, was never an absent thought. She couldn’t be, constantly being shoved in his face like that, and unlike Five, Diego actually had a face to the name.

Five reaches up to grab another plate, dragging it off the side of the table and staggering back to the cupboard.

Klaus has been watching what he says, but Diego knows that by this point in Five’s life in Timeline One, they had some kind of apartment. He won’t say exactly what it was like but judging by their expressions every time it’s brought up, it wasn’t great.

Diego tries to imagine it, this toddling little guy living in a place that leaves Klaus constantly on edge. Diego’s seen how fast Five can be when he wants to, especially when going for something he shouldn’t, and while he’s not thankful for Ben’s death, he _is_ thankful that Klaus had another set of eyes to help him with Five’s care, even if Ben was only sometimes able to hold his nephew.

“All gone!” Klaus smiles, holding out his hands at the now empty table. “Great job, Hawaii Five-O!”

Five babbles, his words very close to sounding human yet not quite. He’s definitely going to be talking soon, proven by the fact that he slurs something along the lines of, “All gone!” as he staggers over to Diego.

“All gone?” Diego offers, silently praying Five doesn’t want to get up into his lap. He’s taken to climbing them recently, trying to get onto their shoulders.

“Ya.” Five agrees, staring up at him, before promptly vanishing under the table.

Ben snorts, leaning down and joining him beneath. Five erupts into delighted giggles at his playmate.

Laughing lightly, Klaus leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Who knew we had two toddlers in the house.”

“At least they’ll keep each other entertained.” Diego chuckles weakly.

“Hm, very true.” Closing his eyes, Klaus tilts his head back, listening to the absent mangled chatter coming from beneath the table between them.

His brother looks tired, Diego suddenly realises, and while the dark smudges beneath his eyes have faded from the time Five was tiny and up throughout the night, they are still there, lighter but ever present. Now Diego takes the time to fully look at him without a wiggling kid in his arms, he picks up on the odd air around him too, one he can’t quite place.

It’s like when you have a word on the very tip of your tongue, your brain struggling to wrangle it together to form cohesive words and leaving you stuttering and struggling. Klaus seems normal, as pale as ever but healthier than before, and there’s pretty much a constant smile on his face these days, but there’s just…Something. Something Diego can’t work out, as if the dust isn’t falling right around him or invisible cobwebs cling to his clothes.

Leaning forward, Diego rests his chin on his hand, frowning. Under the table Ben makes a winded sound, and Five yells excitedly.

At first, when Five started being more of a person and less a human grub, Diego wondered if Five would remember anything, if his consciousness would transfer over from one body to the next, as it did for all of them. He’d ponder how bizarre that’d be, to be a grown adult trapped within an infant’s body, but as Five’s become older, there’s no way that’s the case. 

Older Five wouldn’t be running about, flinging his shoes and socks off whenever he gets the chance and hiding behind his father’s legs at the noise of the vacuum cleaner. He’d be trying to communicate, trying to be an adult and use a knife and fork, or insisting he could use a toilet like everyone else. Sir Swims-A-Lot wouldn’t be taken everywhere, and while Diego only knew Five for a short amount of time, he doubts fifty-something Five would be as keen to be picked up and given cuddles as much as he currently is.

Still, these thoughts keep coming back to him, ticking over in his brain when things turn quiet and his mind drifts.

“Do you ever think,” Diego starts without really meaning to, glancing away briefly as Klaus opens an eye at him, “That maybe, when he’s older, Five will remember what happened?”

Klaus’ brows dip. “What, like the apocalypse?”

“Yeah.”

“No.” Klaus states instantly, his mouth thin and his jaw tight. “No, absolutely not.”

Sitting up, Diego tries not to scowl. “What? Why?”

“He was too young. He didn’t just switch over like us, he went into a body that was weeks old. I don’t think he would’ve even been a consciousness, at that point, though Allison’s better at that stuff than I am.” Not meeting Diego’s gaze, Klaus chews on his lip, staring away at the cupboards in front of him as if they don’t exist. His expression makes a line across his forehead crinkle, and his hands are tight as they grip his arms. “No, this is a different Five, I can tell. He won’t remember.”

“I see...”

“Anyway,” Klaus’ face shifts, and suddenly gone is the vacant look and the lines etching into his skin, and in its place is a smile that reaches high. His hands keep squeezing his arms. “We’re replacing all those bad memories with _nice_ ones, so it’s a good thing, in the end.”

Nodding slowly, Diego listens to the happy sounds from beneath the table, the laughter and the snickers, the voice of Ben, alive and breathing and content, and Five, safe and secure and healthy.

He swallows back a strange feeling in his throat. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klaus: There's only one thing worse than the apocalypse-
> 
> Diego: A child
> 
> Klaus: No!
> 
> As Christmas gets closer I have less time to write, so if the updates get a little skewed for a while that's the reason!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


	8. 15th January 2008

****

**15th January 2008**

Five has a headache.

He also has the hiccups, which does not help his headache. It is uncomfortable, and he feels hot, and his Dad does not seem to care.

“Dad!” Five sobs, clinging to his Dad’s leg and tugging at the _jeans_ he wears. “Pick me up!”

“Five,” Dad says, standing at the kitchen counter. He has a lot of _vegetables_ in front of him, and two large pots. “Enough. I’ve already picked you up twice and I’m cooking at the moment. Go to the table and do your colouring.”

“I don’t wanna!” He cries, hanging off the leg. “I wanna be with you!”

“Five.” Dad repeats, now in that tone that is stern and sometimes scary. Bending down, he grabs Five’s hands and forces him to let go. He makes Five look at him. “I’m busy. You’re getting yourself worked up-”

“I don’t care!”

Face twisting, Dad scowls at him. “Either you calm down and sit at the table, or I put you in the Naughty Chair. Do you understand?”

“No!” Stamping his foot, Five shrieks, “No, no, no!”

“Five!” Kneeling, Dad holds his shoulders tightly so Five cannot throw himself on the floor like he wants. Five squirms, trying to wiggle forward so he can latch onto Dad’s neck, but Dad does not let him. Five shakes. “You’re overreacting! You need to calm down, or-”

If his Dad is not going to make him feel better, then he might as well feel what Five is feeling. 

Kicking, Five barely misses catching his Dad’s chin.

Dad’s face turns angry, and before Five can so much as blink he’s being dragged towards to the Naughty Chair.

“Dad! No!”

Picking him up under the arms, Dad dumps him onto the chair facing the corner. The moment he lets go Five tries to make a dash for it, but Dad catches him, bringing him back and holding him still.

“Five, I want you to sit here for two minutes and think about-”

“No!”

Dad closes his eyes and breathes in, and then looks at Five again. He squats down, speaking slow and strict. “You’re here because you didn’t listen to me and tried to kick me. You will sit here for two minutes.”

Getting up, Dad walks away, and Five instantly goes to follow.

As if he expected that to happen, Dad snags his shoulder and marches Five back. Five struggles, but Dad ignores him, even when Five slaps at the hand holding him.

“You will stay here for two minutes, Five.”

“I wanna be picked up!”

“No.”

Dad strides away, and Five twists in the chair so he can glare at Dad’s back. He is still crying, still hiccupping, but Dad does not care. He picks up a _carrot_ and starts _chopping_ it.

The Naughty Chair is a bit big for Five, meaning he can sit in the middle and curl up without touching the wooden arms or the back. This is what he decides to do now, facing the wall and burying his head between his legs and chest with his arms over his ears. He lets his hands hold onto his hair, pulling enough to hurt.

He is hot and breathing in his little cave makes him hotter. The t-shirt Five has on is stuffy to wear, even if it does have robots all over. It’s not cooling like a real robot would be, because they are made from _metal_ and _metal_ is cold. The _fabric_ feels sticky on his skin, like a hug but bad. The tears spilling down his cheeks feel just as gross, and the snot in his nose makes a loud noise when he sniffs inwards. It tastes strange.

Five hates it. Five hates all of it. 

Sir Swims-A-Lot is in his bedroom but Five wants him. Grandma is upstairs but he wants her. Uncle Ben is out with Uncles Diego and Luther and Aunts Allison and Vanya but that does not matter because Five wants him here, now, in the kitchen where it all feels wrong.

Dad does not care about him anymore. If he did, he would not ignore Five. He would not tell him off for wanting a cuddle, and he would not yell.

Shaking a little, Five forces himself up tighter. He does not know why, but curling up like this makes him feel safe, and if Dad does not love him then maybe Five is not safe. He would be safer if Sir Swims-A-Lot was with him, but if he tries to leave now Dad will put him back in the Naughty Chair.

Five does not want to be in the Naughty Chair. He does not want to be bad. He just wants his Dad, and it is scary that Dad does not want him.

This feeling makes him want to run. It is like the time Uncle Diego let him have ice cream for breakfast and Five bounced around the living room all morning and then had a nap. His legs itch, and he wants to stamp and hop and move, but he will be told off for that because Dad does not love him. He is trapped on the chair.

A hand brushes against his shoulder, and Five peeks up.

Dad is beside him, running his hand up and down Five’s arm. “Time’s up, Five.”

Five sniffs, and blinks. More tears slide down his cheeks and he rubs them away because they burn.

“I put you here because you weren’t listening to me.” Dad tells him. His eyes are sad. “You also tried to kick me.”

He had just wanted Dad to feel what Five is still feeling. He does not understand the weirdness in his _brain_. It hurts.

“Sorry.” Five whispers, and Dad smiles and hugs him close.

“You’re forgiven and thank you for apologising.” He says into Five’s ear.

The hug is warm and not hot like Five’s self-made cave and tears, and Five snuggles into it. He can smell the cleaning stuff Grandma uses for their clothes, and the funny spray Dad puts on when he gets dressed. Dad runs his hand along Five’s back, humming a little. Fingers push through his hair.

“Do you want to read and colour?” Dad asks, pulling away.

Five whimpers at the loss but nods because he guesses he has to. Dad takes his hand and leads Five away from the Naughty Chair to the table. The chairs at the table are bigger than the Naughty Chair, so he has to help Five climb onto one.

“Here.” Dad pulls a large picture book towards him. “Why don’t you have a look at that while I cook, yeah? This one’s all about animals. I think we saw a lot of them when we went to the zoo.”

Five still feels hot, and there is still snot in his nose, so he just nods again. He feels Dad pat his head a few times and then move away.

He stares at the book.

He does not feel like reading, or colouring.

The zoo was ages ago and he cannot really remember all the animals they saw. He can remember the _meerkats_, though. Five did not like them.

Dad had hugged him then. He does not hug Five now. Not in the way Five wants.

Biting his lip, Five grabs the book and slides out the chair. Dad has his back to him, so he does not notice until Five is sat on the floor next to him, the book open on his lap, that he has moved. Dad makes a noise Five does not understand.

The pictures, Five decides as he looks at them, are not _interesting_. They are boring, and stupid, and Five does not want to read the book, but Dad told him to and won’t hug him, so perhaps he can pretend to read the book and Dad won’t mind if he sits close.

“We saw that.” Five tells his Dad, pointing at a picture of a weird fat creature _underwater_. He does not remember what they are called, and the word under the picture does not make sense. Aunt Vanya had liked them.

“Yes, we did.” Dad says, and for a moment Five thinks sitting here is ok, but then Dad follows it up by adding, “I need you to be at the table, Five.”

He blinks up at him, and new tears hurt his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to trip over you if you sit on the floor, and you’re in front of the oven. Read your book at the table, please.”

“But…But…”

“Five.” Dad’s voice is cross again, and Five shrinks.

“Oh my, are we not having fun?” The voice of Grandma makes him jump, and he turns to see her and Uncle Ben stood in the doorway.

“Mom.” Dad says, and he does not sound cross anymore. He sounds like Five.

Walking into the room, Uncle Ben goes to Dad and puts a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to whisper something. Grandma approaches Five and bends down. Her skirt is pink and Five thinks it is pretty.

“I think your Dad is busy at the moment, Five. Why don’t we go have some fun while he cooks?”

Uncle Ben has an arm around Dad’s shoulders, and they move away from Five to the other side of the room. Uncle Ben had a weird expression on his face, like something is wrong.

“It’s fine, Ben. Nothing’s happened.” Dad is telling him, wiping at his face. They turn their backs to Five, but he can still hear what they are saying. “He’s just being two. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Klaus-”

“No, Ben. Honestly, leave it.”

Grandma hums, and Five brings his eyes back to her. He sniffs and says, “I want Dad.”

“I know, honey. But he’s has things to do at the moment. We could go to the courtyard if you like. I’ve planted a lot of new flowers that like the colder weather.”

She has her fingers running over Five’s cheek, brushing away the tears, and Five swallows.

“Carry me?”

“Of course, sweetie.”

Five bites his lip and looks at Dad again. He has a smile on his face as he talks to Uncle Ben. Five is not sure he likes it.

“Ok.” He whispers, and instantly settles as Grandma scoops him up into her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parenting isn't all sunshine and lollipops...
> 
> This will be the last chapter before Christmas, so I'm going be taking a break for a few weeks. Whatever you celebrate this time of year, I hope you have a fabulous time!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


	9. 8th November 2008

****

**8th November 2008**

“If you brought him anything that sings, I swear to God…”

His face a picture of innocence, Diego grins widely at him, absolutely guilty and a terrible example of a brother. At the sight of unadulterated evil, Klaus groans loudly, dropping another balloon which floats off to join the rest bouncing around their feet.

The living room is alive with buzzing, organised chaos.

Marching through the doorway from the kitchen, Allison and Vanya have become deeply lost in the chore of setting up the buffet table for the guests arriving later, carrying in trays of homecooked sausage rolls, mini quiches, and bowls of chips, as well as large jugs of fruit juice and soda. Earlier, a wandering hand from Diego was smacked away with an almost possessive force, and Klaus suspects only Five will be able to sneak an early snack and get away with it.

Elsewhere, Luther and Ben heft couches and coffee tables out the way to make space for the ten or so playmates from Five’s various kid groups set to tear the place apart. They’ve already spread out a protective plastic sheet over the expensive carpet Reginald probably imported from deepest, darkest Peru, making their footsteps crunch and crinkle as they scurry back and forth.

Unsurprisingly, none of his siblings took to the idea of dealing with the various spills that come with having a ton of children in a confined space with any kind of gusto, and the suggestion of having a protective covering they could simply gather up afterwards was snapped up quicker than Klaus could blink.

Releasing another balloon into the wild, the warm smell of cinnamon cookies and freshly made cake waft through the room as Allison goes hurrying by, and Klaus takes a moment to breathe it in, knowing full well he won’t even get the chance to look at those goodies before greedy and grubby hands snatch them away and gobble them up.

Perhaps Mom still has some cookie dough left over.

Next to him, Diego huffs good-naturedly. “Look, you didn’t say I _couldn’t_ buy him something with music-”

Snapping his face around, Klaus stares, incredulous. “I gave you a _list_, Diego!”

“Which said things like _toys_ and _books_, nothing against them singing.”

“I hate you.” Klaus informs him blankly. “You’re my least favourite brother. I’m going to tell Five he’s only allowed to play with it in your room.”

“He’s not allowed in my room.” Diego counters, which is true. His brother’s room is the one place, minus the basement, where he’s allowed his knives. They’ve had to be strict in reinforcing the rule that Five can’t go in unless he has clear permission and has an adult with him.

Klaus shrugs. “Then he’s not allowed to play with it.”

“Harsh.”

“It’s called preserving my mental health!” Grabbing another deflated balloon from the packet, Klaus stretches it out. “Do you know how long I had to wait for the batteries to die in the keyboard Ben brought him?”

Diego glances up at him. “No?”

“Years!”

“Ah.” There might be a tiny hint of apprehensive regret on his brother’s face, and good, it’s what he deserves. “Well, perhaps the batteries will mysteriously disappear in the middle of the night?”

Tutting, Klaus blows up the balloon and ties a knot in the end. “You can deal with that tantrum, then.”

“Hm.” Diego pulls a face, and then peers around. “Where is the birthday boy, anyway?”

“Playroom, having a birthday tea with Sir Swims-A-Lot.”

“Birthday tea?”

“The fake food Ben got him last year.”

A tired look of exasperation Diego’s face. “The plastic eggs he keeps shoving in my face?”

“The plastic eggs he keeps shoving in your face.”

“Nice to know the stuff he insists I ‘eat’ has been all over the floor.”

“I found some in our bathroom once.”

Diego’s nose screws up. “Ew, no, I didn’t need to know that.”

The sound of the doorbell cuts the conversation short, and Klaus winks at his brother as he heads off to answer, leaving the madness of the party preparations behind. 

Unlike the rest of the house, the lobby area is clean of the birthday debris, minus the occasional lost balloon investigating random corners, giving Klaus straight access to the front door. Through the clouded glass he can see the bright coloured ribbon they tied on the other side to let people know they had the right address swaying in the November breeze.

There’s half an hour to go until anyone is due to arrive, so whoever’s here is seriously early.

Before he opens the door, Klaus schools his expression, turning it into one that’s controlled, deliberate, a mask well-worn and natural on his face. He’s had a lifetime to master it, and by now knows for a fact that it’s the ideal mixture of polite and cheerful while also responsible and level headed, perfect for its role at placating the unjustly worried questions sent his way during these early years of Five’s life. 

The questions from the parents at kindergarten, the reading groups at the library, and the song-and-rhyme sessions in the local halls are all well-intentioned, but that doesn’t mean the poking and probing doesn’t sting just a little. Constantly having to reaffirm that yes, Klaus _is_ young to be a Dad, and no, Five _isn’t_ his younger brother, causes his chest to clench a smidge too tight, but under the gaze of such scrutiny he often can’t even wiggle from the uncomfortable it all is.

He misses the days when Ben could pull faces behind their backs and get away with it.

Swinging open the door, Klaus steels himself for several hours of social interaction, only to completely blank.

It’s not one of the parents.

Well, technically they _are_ a parent, just not one Klaus was expecting.

Annie stands quietly on the doorstep, her Grandfather behind her looking even more wrinkled and frail than he did in any of the photographs she sent him. He has a long wooden walking stick, which he leans on with both hands, and he hums at his appearance.

“Hi.” Klaus breathes weakly, because his brain’s currently rebooting and, apparently, he’s easily struck dumb.

“Hi.” Annie echoes. Her hair has been pinned back, and she wears a dress and jacket despite the cold early winter weather. Her Grandfather’s dressed smartly, though Klaus imagines he’s of an age where men wore those kinds of clothes as part of daily habit.

They haven’t seen each other for three years, not since she dropped Five off and gave him full custody. In that time, she’s changed, maturing from a pale teen into a young woman, but there’s a familiar uncertainty in her eyes, and she subtly shifts from foot to foot.

Their letters have been going strong, and Five’s getting to an age where he can start to add his own scrawled messages at the bottom, but having Annie _here_, at the house, occupying the same space as Five, makes something Klaus can’t place flicker in his chest.

It takes him a moment to realise that something is _pride_.

“Um.” Annie says, and then she shoves something forward, a package wrapped in bright green paper and tied with a bow. “I got this. For Five. For his birthday? I thought I’d drop it off.”

Klaus takes it slowly. “Thank you.”

“This is my Grandfather.” She gestures to the elderly man behind her stiffly. “You’ve never met, so…”

“It’s a pleasure.” Annie’s Grandfather smiles, his lined face warm and caring as he holds out a hand. “It’s lovely to finally meet the father of my Great-Grandson. Please, call me Barney.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Barney.” Klaus hears himself saying, and they shake. He clears his throat. “Do you want to come in? Five’s upstairs, I could go get him…”

Annie takes a small step back, and Barney wraps an arm around her shoulders. They share a glance, and then Barney turns to Klaus and grins. His hand runs up and down her arm.

“We can’t stay long, but we could come in for ten minutes.”

Stepping back, Klaus lets them through the door, closing it behind them. They both automatically gape up at the sight of the staircase, and the high ceilings that make up the Academy.

“Wow, this is quite a place.” Barney comments.

“Uh, yeah, the stairs were a nightmare to baby gate. They’re really wide.”

“Oh, I imagine!”

“Um, Five’s upstairs, why don’t you come into the living room while you wait?” Klaus gestures for them to follow him, taking them to the doorway. “We’re getting things ready for the party.”

A small light goes on behind Annie’s eyes. “Your siblings!”

Nodding, Klaus sets Annie’s present down on one of the tables. “Yeah, they’re, um, just as ugly as they are in the photos.”

She snickers softly, and Klaus feels himself relax.

Everyone in the room waves in their direction but keeps to themselves, giving the duo some space as they let their surroundings sink in. Klaus makes a mental note to thank them later. His brothers and sisters can be an overbearing lot at the best of times, and the last thing he needs right now is to give the wrong first impression.

“Just give me a moment, I’ll go get Five.”

He takes the stairs two at a time, quickly crossing by Mom’s paintings to his little corner of the house. Ben’s bedroom door is closed, because recently Five’s taken to wandering in at his leisure and keeping the doors shut is how they remind him not to go in, as is the bathroom and Five’s room.

The playroom’s is open a crook, and Klaus pushes it wide. “Five?”

The room is empty. A set of crayons and several sheets of paper litter the floor, a book open beside them, but his son is nowhere to be seen.

Frowning, Klaus checks Five’s bedroom, a small niggle of worry jabbing at his stomach when Five isn’t there either.

Hurrying over to the window, Klaus runs his fingers over the locks that keep Five from opening it and tumbling out. They’re as sturdy as they were when Luther first installed them, and the alleyway below is empty of wandering newly turned three-year-olds.

The only other places for Five to go are downstairs. All the unused rooms of the mansion have been locked up until further notice, hiding away any leftover torture devices Reginald liked to keep hanging around which they haven’t had a chance to get rid of yet, and Five knows that he can only go into his aunts’ and uncles’ bedrooms with permission, Diego’s especially.

Today’s his birthday, and after hearing about it for weeks Klaus knows Five wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. He’s too excited about the party and the cake to go running off in the opposite direction. 

Perhaps Five managed to get to the kitchen without him noticing, aiming to get an early look at the surprise icing decoration Mom’s been lightly teasing him about for days. He’s been growing a fair bit lately, and while the steps to the kitchen are still big for him, he’s at an age where the handrail is enough support that he can get down without having to call for help.

Mom was still there last he knew, so Five might’ve simply been roped into helping her bake.

Taking a deep breath, Klaus shuts his eyes tight and runs a hand over his face, his thumb and forefinger massaging into his temples.

Five’s too young to teleport. 

In Timeline One, his powers didn’t appear until he was five, and they had the forewarning of the _swirling blue shit_ Ben saw several days prior. Klaus and Five have been doing a lot together recently, logging in a ton of one-on-one time as everyone else ran around buying and discreetly wrapping presents, and he hasn’t seen a single thing out of their newly reset norm.

Still, the first time around Klaus only thought his son could spatial jump. The knowledge that he can also _time travel_, vanishing off anywhere at any time, sends his brain soaring off into a large number of _what ifs_ he’d rather not speculate.

He takes another deep breath.

Five’s too young to jump, which means he must be here somewhere. There’s nothing to be concerned about.

A noise rattles from his neighbouring bedroom, followed by a giggle.

“Christ on a cracker…”

His door’s open, revealing a room filled with the typical localised mayhem that comes with having a young child. A large number of Klaus’ shirts are screwed up in piles on the floor, clearly having had small hands reach up and yank them off their respective hangers. One of his more elaborate jackets has spread feathers everywhere, and his lace-up leather trousers have one leg climbing up onto his bed, the other buried under the wrinkled blanket that once draped over his desk chair.

Sir Swims-A-Lot perches comfortably on a pillow now on the carpet, the stitched smile giving the plush a pleased air as it’s given pride of place in the room.

Five, his back turned to Klaus as he hovers in the doorway, stands in front of his wardrobe with his arms spinning in windmills as he attempts to toddle around in a pair of sparkly heels. His feet are miles too small, meaning they slide forward into the toes and force Five to drag the shoes along as he attempts to walk, uncoordinated and clumsy.

Realistically, Klaus knows he should be cross. Five’s helped himself to his things, meaning half of his clothes will need to be ironed again and a good half an hour will have to be allotted to simply putting the room back in order. This isn’t the type of behaviour he should be encouraging, especially considering they live with six other people now rather than just the two of them (and Ben) and boundaries need to be set and respected.

Five staggers like a drunk towards his mirror and pulls a face, his hands on his hips.

Klaus bursts into laughter, loud and light.

Startled, Five loses his balance, toppling over onto his bottom. “Dad!”

Trying to reign in his amusement in order to maintain the vague image of a good parent, Klaus asks, while forcing as much laughter out of his voice as he can, “So, Five, care to explain the mess?”

Thoroughly caught, Five gulps and glances around. “It’s not that bad.”

“Uh-huh…” Crossing his arms, Klaus raises an eyebrow, no real heat in his voice. “And who do you think will have to tidy it up?”

Five dips his head and thinks for a moment, before declaring, “I can do it!”

While the sentiment is sweet, Klaus knows that when Five helps with anything, the chore instantly becomes two hours longer.

“You can, but later, right now I need you to come downstairs with me.”

Five kicks off the heels, jumping to his feet to take Klaus’ waiting hand, grabbing Sir Swims-A-Lot on the way. “Is my party ready?”

Humming, Klaus scoops him up and sets him on his hip. “Not yet, but there’s someone here to see you.”

“Is it Santa?”

“Uh, no, not yet Hawaii Five-O. That’s December, remember?” Glancing at Five, it’s clear by the way his face screws up that he probably doesn’t, but Klaus lets Five nod seriously anyway.

“Then who is it?”

Leaving the bedroom, Klaus starts the journey back towards the living room. “It’s your Mom, Five. You remember those letters I read to you sometimes? The ones with the pictures?”

Five hugs Sir Swims-A-Lot close to him, rubbing the soft material over his face. “I draw at the bottom.”

“You do, you draw at the bottom of the ones I send back. Remember how I say they’re going to Mommy, and then she sends replies and we read them together?”

“Uh-huh.” Five says, in the odd way children do which makes it impossible to tell if he really does comprehend what’s being said to him or not.

“Well, she wanted to wish you a happy birthday, so she’s downstairs waiting to meet you.”

“Is she?”

“Yep, kiddo. Your Great-Grandfather’s there as well. His name’s Barney.”

Instantly lighting up, Five beams at him. “Like the dinosaur?”

“His _name_ is Barney, Five,” Klaus stresses, putting as much emphasis as he can into it. “He’s not the dinosaur. Please don’t say that to him.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s rude.” 

Starting down the stairs, Klaus spies Vanya chatting to Annie and Barney in the doorway of the living room, two stray balloons floating by their feet. They seem to be deep in a pleasant conversation, and Barney has one of Annie’s hands in his own, his thumb rubbing it soothingly.

Pausing, Klaus bites at his lip as he watches them, before turning to Five and leaning his face in so only Five can hear him. “Your Mommy’s a little nervous, ok bud? So I want you to be really, really nice to her.”

“Ok.” Five says simply, his eyes on Sir Swims-A-Lot.

“She might not want to hug you, and that’s ok, alright? Sometimes people just want to say hi without hugging each other.”

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Yeah.”

“Right then.” Clearing his throat, Klaus descends the lasts of the steps, making his shoes thud a little louder than necessary to catch Annie’s attention.

Annie’s shoulders go stiff, and Barney’s the first to react, his face moving towards them calmly. Vanya waves at Five then hurries off, shooing Luther and Diego towards the kitchen to give them all space.

“Hello.” Barney says, “You must be Five.”

“You look like a dinosaur.” Five informs him, and Klaus dies a little inside.

Taking it in his stride, Barney laughs wholeheartedly, releasing Annie’s hand to hold his chest. “Thank you, young man. I’m not very purple though.”

Five makes a humming noise and kicks his feet about, shifting slightly into Klaus’ hold so he’s pressed closer against him. As Annie slowly turns in a small circle to face them, he eyes her with that sharp gaze he will later master, a new uncertainty in his face. The hand not cradling Sir Swims-A-Lot latches onto the collar of Klaus’ shirt, and the previous curious, blatant energy melts into something softer.

After so many years of dealing with a boisterous, confident boy and an almost-teenager, Klaus forgot Five could also be _shy_.

“Hi Five.” Annie squeaks, her voice very high and shaky.

When Five doesn’t say anything, Klaus bounces him and whispers, “Say hello.”

“Hello.” Five parrots obediently.

“We’ve wanted to meet you for a long time.” Barney says. He doesn’t make a point of approaching, simply standing where he is, a solid rock against Annie’s silent jittering. “Happy birthday, Five.”

Mumbling out something that is close enough to ‘thank you’ for Klaus not to push him into it, Five holds Sir Swims-A-Lot right up to his eyes, hiding behind it.

“You…I…Uh…” Glancing rapidly between Five and Barney, Annie’s mouth opens and closes several times, words trying and failing to form how she wants.

Barney takes the lead. “That’s a lovely looking fish you have there. Does it have a name?”

When Five just nods instead of answering properly, Annie squeaks, “Sir Swims-A-Lot.”

“Oh! What a good name! Did you pick it out, Five?”

Shaking his head, Five points to Klaus, nearly whacking him in the nose. “Daddy.”

“What a clever Daddy, coming up with a name like that.”

Annie inches a little closer, her hands reaching up before aborting the gesture and quickly tucking back at her sides. Working on his initiative, Klaus shuffles forward, closing some of the gap between them before dropping to his knees, setting Five down on his feet.

Five isn’t happy about that, but he doesn’t voice his complaints, simply standing there and rocking about on his heels, peering up at the two strangers in front of them. Klaus keeps his hand on his back, staying on the ground should it all become too much and Five ends up in need of reassuring, but he doesn’t coddle him either, letting Five’s natural self-assured and bold nature bubble up to the surface.

After a very noticeable prompt from her Grandfather, Annie squats down as well, adjusting the bottoms of her dress so it covers her knees and legs neatly. Her fingers fiddle with the hem and a loose thread.

“I…I, uh, I see you’re having a party.” She says, eyes darting up and down from the floor and Five. When Five just nods at her, she swallows, and asks, “Are all your friends coming?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Which friends are coming, Five? Do you remember?” Klaus pushes gently.

Five looks at him, then back at Annie, and then down at Sir Swims-A-Lot. “George and Lena and Josie and Harry and Ben. He has the same name as Uncle Ben, but he isn’t my uncle like Uncle Ben is.”

“Is Uncle Ben coming too?” Annie asks softly.

“Yeah. He has to ‘cause he lives here.”

A very small, very unsure smile tugs the corner of Annie’s lips. “Ah, I see. Are you’re other Aunts and Uncles coming to your party?”

Five nods. “And Grandma. She’s making my cake.”

“What kind of cake?”

Now grinning, Five throws out his arms. “A big one!”

“As big as that?”

“Uh-huh! Uh-huh!”

“Wow! You must be excited!”

“Yeah!”

Standing silently, Klaus stays where he is but crosses his arms, letting Five gradually bring Annie out of her shell. Barney takes a back seat as well, watching his Granddaughter with such a look of love that Klaus feels a wedge of something lock into his throat, and he has to glance away for a moment.

His eyes meet that of another’s across the room, hidden in one of the dark corners where she won’t distract from the scene before them. Klaus feels his body freeze, before he notices the way her shoes are completely soundless on the wooden floor, the typical indicator of a ghost that has made Klaus jump so often he’s surprised people don’t think he permanently has hiccups.

Ben used to like to spook him, being able to sneak up without being heard, and when Five was really tiny it’d make him giggle like mad.

A finger to her lips, the woman, dressed in a beautiful robin’s egg blue dress, walks unheard over towards Annie and Barney, her light brown hair pinned back into something straight out of the fifties. She has a wedding ring on her finger, Klaus notices, and a golden locket around her neck.

Placing herself right next to Barney, the woman leans her head over his shoulder in an imitation of resting against him. One of her arms loops as if to link their elbows, and a smile, one which is strangely reminiscent of Mom when she babysits Five, creases her face with warmth.

It doesn’t take long for Klaus to spot the matching ring on Barney, his gold band worn and dulled with years of use.

Two and two slots together, and subtly Klaus waves his fingers at Five’s Great-Grandmother. He doesn’t know tons about Annie’s side of the family, only that she lives with her Grandfather and she doesn’t see her older brother, but her Grandmother must have died in her early forties at the most for her to look as she does now. That must have left a lot of years for her and Barney to be apart, and unlike Ben they didn’t have the bonus of being able to see each other.

It’s no secret that he can see the dead. Half the world knows, thanks to Reginald’s multiple publicity stunts, so Annie and Barney must be as aware of what he can do as much as the next person, but that doesn’t make it any easier to just blurt out and say. There’s no easy lead into it, no conversation starters where he can steer the topic to mention that, hey, do you want to see your dead loved ones again? Because that’s something he can do!

Klaus _will_ have to mention it at some point. It’s too much of an elephant in the room, and the people who are now their extended family might as well get some use out of his abilities. The woman clearly loves them, and the doting expression she wears as she looks at her Granddaughter and Great-Grandson is enough to tell Klaus she would spoil them rotten if she could. Who is he to keep them apart?

However, this moment, as Five and Annie slowly bond, getting closer centimetre by centimetre, is not the time for it. Annie’s going to want to retreat soon, and that kind of emotional reunion isn’t something that should happen in the lobby of the Academy just before a load of party guests arrive for a three-year-old’s party.

So, instead, Klaus simply watches the moment unfold, letting Five’s natural charm win over the affections of the room while making a silent promise to pay back just a small amount of the amazing, brilliant little present Annie bestowed upon him so long ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diego, three days later as the musical toy he brought Five gets played for the thousandth time: I have made a huge mistake...
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


	10. 13th August 2009

****

**13th August 2009**

Sometimes, Vanya thinks, in those lonely nights where her brain decides to chew over everything that’s happened to them, their current situation must be incredibly bizarre for Mom.

For Vanya and her siblings, their entire worldview has changed. Stacked up behind them is a lifetime packed with choices, consequences, ramifications they’re only now understanding with the ever-frustrating power of hindsight. It fuels them, lights up fires within their very core to be better, healthier, open on all those things they were taught to bottle up and hide away, cloaked under the definitions of _special_ and _ordinary_. 

In a twisted spin of fate, becoming younger again, returning to these childlike bodies with their shortened heights and squeakier voices, has matured her family in a way Vanya could’ve never imagined, giving them a second chance at life most can only dream of.

However, for Mom this change must be startling. One moment she’s helping her teenage brood, serving up their dinners and sewing patches to their clothes when they rip, and the next her children are a shaken, apologising, forgiving mess, scarily honest with one another and suddenly unable to stop hugging, nudging, and offering hands of support where needed.

Diego never would’ve hung around Vanya growing up in Timeline One, and yet they now spend hours together down in the basement, practicing her powers with CDs and their voices and the god-awful children’s recorder Diego found in a bargain bin which produces a shriek like no other. Ben joins them sometimes, no longer the timid boy scared of what lurks within and growing with a confidence every day.

They are not Mom’s children, and for her, the transition must’ve happened in a blink.

A while after they returned, when Reginald had been sent away and Vanya had switched out her old, horrid nook of a room to one where she could actually swing her arms out without fear of knocking everything to the ground, Mom appeared in her doorway. She had stood there, watching as Vanya put away her clean laundry, her eyes trailing over the newly decorated walls and the potted plants on the windowsill, before smiling widely.

“I was wondering, Vanya,” She began, holding her hands neatly in front of her, “If you would like your lesson for the week?”

The question had caught Vanya off guard, and she had frozen halfway through organising her sock drawer.

“Lesson?”

“Yes, for your violin.” 

“Oh.” Vanya had breathed, before repeating, a little dumbstruck, a touch resigned, “_Oh_. No, it’s ok, Mom, but thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes Mom, I’m sure.”

Right after rumouring Reginald to leave them the hell alone, telling Mom they came from the future was one of the first things they did. Diego insisted on it, saying that it was only fair that they informed their primary guardian that they are actually adults, that they’d lived entire lives and knew more about the world then they ever could have at this age.

“If we don’t,” Diego had argued, “She’ll just keep treating us like babies, and we’re not.”

Mom is many, many things.

She is kind, and gentle, and soft in a way that’s almost angelic. She makes the best hot chocolate Vanya has ever had the pleasure of tasting and can cook to a degree that would make famous chefs jealous. She carries an air of sophistication, yet never belittles or undermines any poor soul that comes her way. Throughout her childhood, Mom was always there, helping Vanya drift off to sleep and offering soft lavender-scented handkerchiefs and soothing strokes through her hair.

She’s also a robot, a being of logic and linear time.

These two things clash.

There’s a look Mom has sometimes, when they’re all talking and the conversation is going a mile a minute, which Vanya, if she was prepared to take a step back and be as blunt and indifferent as possible, would describe as _Do Not Compute_.

It’s not that the life goes out of Mom, but for those split seconds, those tiny frames of time when she glances at the right angle, it feels as if Vanya’s able to peek behind the synthetic hair and human-like eyes and see the metal and wires and gears jamming behind them. It’s as if the information wafting through her system gets snagged on the numbers and calculations inhabiting her version of a brain, becoming too abstract to be deconstructed and acknowledged in a way that’s meaningful to the rest of them.

Sometimes, Mom appears to have understood. She will say something, or do something, and Vanya’s chest will tighten with an almost lightheaded delight that the woman who means so much to all of them is finally on the same page.

Other times, she will directly contradict herself, and they’re right back to square one.

Mom knows they’re from the future, but her consciousness is a complex mess of philosophical debates, moral ethics, and perplexing mathematics, and what that means for their daily lives is a mystery only answered in the heat of the moment.

It must be something, though, to listen to your daughter shakily stumble through _ The White Cliffs of Dover_ one day and hear her play Bach the next.

Five, at least, is a welcome distraction, for both Mom and Vanya.

Mom’s taken to caring for him like a duck to water and has formed the much-appreciated habit of swooping in just when Klaus needs her to save the day from another childish tantrum or meltdown. Five’s not the worst out there, Vanya doesn’t have to be a parent to know that, but he’s still a kid and fully ready to fling himself on the floor when he decides the world hates him.

If there’s one questions Vanya will never struggle to answer, it’s that their Mom will always be ready to care for someone, no matter who they are.

For Vanya, her relationship with Five is a little different. She’s not as goofy as Diego or easily climbable as Luther, and unlike Allison and Ben she doesn’t have experience with small children. The youngest her students ever got was eight or nine, an age when they’re more capable of having a long conversation with an adult and are less likely to burst into song at random or insist she has tea with a cuddly toy.

Five doesn’t seem to mind her awkwardness and will insist he sits next to her when they watch a movie or colour. On the few nights she’s done bedtime, he’s always seemed happy enough when she reads his story and tucks him in.

She must be doing something right, at least.

However, recently Five’s formed a curious habit, one that threw her off for a couple of days. It started as something barely noticeable, when she happened to play her violin with her bedroom door open.

For a while now, they’ve been trying to teach Five that the bedrooms of his Aunts and Uncles aren’t free reign, and that he has to have permission to enter. This was mainly pushed by Ben, who realised that having his room in the same corridor as Klaus’ little nest meant Five was assuming that he could wander in and out as easily as he could the playroom. The notion was backed up by Diego, who wanted to be able to use his knives freely without the worry that Five might burst in through the door at any moment.

In all honestly, Vanya doesn’t mind. She has every plan to move out before getting to the stage of bringing _guests_ over, and she tends to get dressed in her bathroom anyway. Her small nephew toddling in to see her is the very least of her worries.

Still, Vanya gets it, so she goes along with the rule and enforces it like the rest of them.

Five’s been pretty good at listening to it as well, minus the odd occasion or two. He’ll knock and wait for an answer, or sometimes call from the other side of the door. He likes to greet them with a hug when he’s let in, before showing off the cool rock he found or falling into a story about the leaves he saw at the park.

It’s because of this rule that Vanya realised Five likes to spy on her playing.

The first time it happened she was going over a piece she hadn’t played for ages, revisiting it with skills more finely tuned, a musical ear more able at picking up her mistakes. It’d been one of the first times she learnt a song which felt proper, as if she was a _real_ musician and not just a kid trying to play an instrument. The piece had taken weeks to fully comprehend, and even longer to play it without hesitation, nothing like the nursery rhymes and nonsense five second ditties she’d been tackling before.

Not much from Timeline One got filed into the good category, but the memory of the day she conquered it is one of the few.

The August weather had been warm the day she played the song again, so her windowpanes had been pried apart to allow in the soft summer breeze and the gentle smells of Mom’s flowers in the courtyard. They’d recently brought Mom a fountain and birdbath for her steadily growing garden, and the splashes of water had only added to the light, airy music Vanya wove into the air, her fingers tickling the strings as she dove her wrist back and forth.

So entuned into the sounds around her, Vanya had no trouble at all picking up the quiet creak of a floorboard in the corridor.

Five, when she peeked out the corner of her eye, was crouching beside the corner of her doorframe, watching her with every lick of attention a three-year-old is able to muster.

He didn’t come in. Vanya hadn’t given him permission, and he knew from the many miniature concerts Vanya staged for them in the living room (greatly encouraged by Mom and Allison) not to interrupt her mid-song.

They’d taught him that it’s rude to interrupt people when they’re playing. 

Granted, it is, and Five shouldn’t do it, but for her there’s alternative reason behind the rule. For Vanya it’s never just music, but building power, a growing strength within her that can be either wobbling waves on a lake or an elastic band slowly getting more and more stretched. To interrupt her halfway through is to jolt her frame of mind, snap her back into reality with as much subtly as dumping a bucket of ice over her head. Unless she’s able to bring herself to a stop on her own accord, anything could happen, be it a ring of power that rattles the walls or a burst so strong the entire building comes down.

Five, the smart child that he is, has never broken the rule. Hopefully by the time he gets his power she will have enough control that it shouldn’t be a problem anymore. He’s three, she still has two years to work it out.

By the time she was done playing Five was gone, and when Vanya went looking for him, he was downstairs reading a book on the couch with Klaus. At dinner, she’d gently tried to ask him why he hid from her as she played, but Five bottled up and wiggled under her attention as if embarrassed, so Vanya let it be.

Still, the next time she practiced, he did it again.

Then again.

Then again.

Their resident little person is many things. Demanding, at times, quick to pick up on what he’s being taught, confident and blunt and very sure of his opinion, but under all those layers, Vanya can see that he’s shy, as well. Not in the same, scarily quiet way Ben used to go sometimes growing up, or her childhood habit of becoming near invisible, but if she was to plonk her nephew down in a random situation with random people in a random place, she would bet her violin that Five would cling like his life depended on it.

Her nephew’s never been like that around her. He’s grown up with her in his life, so why Five’s bashful about Vanya knowing that he listens to her, she doesn’t know. Perhaps he likes the illusion of not being caught (as far as he knows, anyway.) Maybe he thinks it’s his secret, and that makes him feel special. It could be that he thinks he’s being naughty and has fun with the adrenaline of doing something he’s not supposed to.

Vanya has absolutely no idea, but she’s alright with that.

Growing up, she spent days longing for someone to seek her out, to want to listen to her play and find the music she creates something worth their time and energy.

Her nephew wants to sit and listen from the comfort of the corridor, and come back time and time again just for her?

Vanya smiles, and plays on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh. A nice, quiet chapter without any emotional angst or trauma. Isn't this nice? I should write this kind of thing more often.
> 
> Oh well.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


	11. 7th June 2010

****

**7th June 2010**

James was not the one.

Not necessarily the most shocking of statements of the decade. Klaus had only been dating the guy for four months, no way was that enough time to slip a ring on his finger and call himself taken.

Still. _Still._

Four months. 

Four months of evenings out and dinners and lunch dates at the park. Four months of phone calls and inside jokes and roping his siblings into babysitting so he could have some adult time. Four stupid, _fucking_ months of Five being there when they’d hung out at the mansion, and having to explain to his son that he was dating and what that meant.

Four months, plus a crying fit which left Five fragile for the rest of the day when he thought Klaus was planning to replace him with James and didn’t love him anymore.

All for a guy who decided that Klaus wasn’t worth the effort that he came with, that _the kid_ was baggage, a pain to work around, and having so many siblings was a nuisance he couldn’t be bothered to negotiate.

Actual words. Those were the actual, honest to God phrases that motherfucking prick said to Klaus’ face.

He’s pretty sure the entire Academy overheard his reaction to that. 

The rest of the goddamn street, as well. 

His brothers and sisters made the wise decision not to venture out of their rooms as he unceremoniously booted James from the building, and even if they did, the bone-rattling slam of the front door would’ve sent them scuttling straight back to hide for the rest of the night.

It’s nearly twelve when Klaus finishes ranting and raving to himself downstairs, gathering up enough of his wits to slink off to his room. Five went to sleep hours ago, so as much as he would adore stomping down the corridors and banging his door shut to tell everyone, probably listening through their walls, that any midnight visitors would be very unwelcome, he forces himself to be quiet, slipping into the sanctuary of his bedroom and flinging himself on top of his bed.

Crossing his arms over his face as he lays on his back, Klaus thanks whoever’s bothering to listen that, at the very least, the argument was late at night, when tiny ears weren’t around to overhear the very colourful language Klaus’ mouth felt like producing in the heat of the moment.

He sniffs. Twice. Then again for good measure.

He doesn’t want to cry over that low life. James really isn’t worth it, and in the grand scheme of things Klaus only lost a tiny percentage of his existence to the twat. There’s more fricking fish in the sea, and every other cheesy saying people like to spew when stuff like this happens, and what he should do now is have a nice long bath with lots of bubbles and some of the rubber ducks Five likes to play with. After that, he should dress in his favourite pyjamas and get into bed with his favourite blankets, and then sleep off any last remaining thoughts about the bastard and wake up fresh and ready to accept a new, James free day.

He sniffs again, the sound loud in the otherwise silent room.

Hot tears start to slide over his face, scarring into the skin of his cheeks as they dribble pathetically down to pool in the curl of his ear. They stick to the material of his sweater sleeve, clinging to the fabric and making it heavy and damp. A few make it passed his ear, hitting with small taps against his pillow.

He’s wearing mascara, because he’d made an _effort_ tonight, and it’ll only mar the cotton pillowcases Mom likes to use. Klaus, however, can’t bring himself to care, and instead of getting up he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, squidging them deep into his skull and coating his skin with watery, bruise-like eyeliner marks.

An urge to scream builds up within him, biting at the back of his throat with sharp teeth and foul language, and Klaus swallows the choking lump away, willing it down into the very pit of his stomach so he doesn’t disturb his sleeping child in the neighbouring room.

Just the thought of Five gets Klaus heckles rising all over again.

Fuck James for referring to his brilliant little boy as _baggage_. Fuck him for saying he’s a _pain to work around_. Five’s a better example of a human being than James will ever be. He’s sweet, and kind, and sensitive, and his brain is so much more amazing than Klaus’ can even hope to come anywhere close to. James should be damn thankful for simply being in the same room as him, for getting to know his inquisitive little boy for four entire months and having just a glimpse at his genius.

Five made every sacrifice just for them to be where they are today.

Klaus’ fingers slide into his hair, latching on and gripping tight enough to be painful. He bites his lip, stifling the well of emotions pouring into his mouth, fury, regret, heartbreak, locking them up so the person he loves most of all remains blissfully unaware of his current sloppy, snotty state.

The tears keep coming, and Klaus hates it.

He shouldn’t have fallen. He shouldn’t have pursued something which, apparently, was only ever intended to be a brief fling. He shouldn’t have let himself stay up for so many nights, giddy and excited about the new guy he’d met. He shouldn’t have let James be introduced to his siblings, only adding to the humiliation he’s got to face in the morning when everyone will know the person he spent so many happy hours with was nothing more than a sodden piece of trash not worth a second glance at.

It’d just been so nice to be _Klaus_ for a while. 

Not Klaus the parent, or Klaus the brother, or Klaus who time travelled and lost his son and the life he’d built for himself. Just Klaus, an adult getting together with another adult and enjoying the idea of someone wanting to know about _him_ first. Just him, and his stupid, open personality, and his stupid pride about his beautiful son, and his stupid heart which won’t stop hurting over someone who thought it’d be a good idea to insult his kid to his face.

“Daddy?”

Snapping upright, Klaus blanks at the sight of Five curled around his open bedroom door, his mouth hanging open before he quickly scrambles to wipe off his face, staining his sweater sleeves with dark makeup and every other mess he’s managed to make. He clears his throat, his tongue feeling like a block of sandpaper too big for his mouth, and sniffs loudly.

Five cradles Sir Swims-A-Lot against his chest, and going by the Buzz Lightyear pyjamas, Luther was the one who put him to bed tonight. Despite being awake now, Five was clearly asleep for a while, going by the cowlicks of his hair and the droopy but alert look in his eyes.

“Hey buddy,” Klaus croaks, clearing his voice again to ask, clearer, “What’re you doing up?”

“It was noisy.” Five whispers, as if he’ll be in trouble for pointing out the obvious.

Klaus feels his entire chest sink.

Crap.

He really shouldn’t be surprised. At the time of making the racket he’d known he was being loud and coming up to his room has only reaffirmed how quiet the Academy is at this time of night. There was no way Five was ever going to slumber peacefully through it all and not wake up spooked.

Klaus pushes away the liquid building behind his eyelids and silently opens his arms.

Needing nothing else, Five scurries across the room, clambering up into Klaus’ lap and readily accepting the hug. His head buries against his shoulder, and as Klaus starts to gently rock them back and forth, a small hand reaches to wipe against his damp cheeks.

Gulping, Klaus tucks a stray lock of hair behind Five’s ear. “I’m ok, bud.”

“You’re crying.”

“I know, but I’m ok.” He hugs Five a bit tighter. “I’ve got you here now, anyway. You’re going to look after me, right?”

“Uh-huh.” The four-year-old nods seriously. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, but then, in a voice that makes Klaus wither, “You were shouting.”

Swiping under his nose of the back of his hand, Klaus forces a smile. “Yeah, yeah I was. James isn’t going to be coming here anymore.”

Stroking careful fingers over his fish, Five blinks up at him. “Why?”

“He wasn’t being very nice.” Klaus tells him, willing with as much might as he’s able to keep the wobble from his voice. “He said some mean things. D’you remember what I said about people who’re mean to you?”

“Not to talk to them?”

“Yes, but to also stay away from them. James was being really mean, so I don’t think we should see him anymore.”

“Oh.” Five’s eyes fall from him down to Sir Swims-A-Lot. The toy has a stain just above its right eye, probably as a result of sharing Five’s dinner before bed.

Klaus wouldn’t know. He’d been out with James.

He’ll have to wash it tomorrow.

“Do you want to sleep with Daddy tonight, Hawaii Five-O?”

Nodding, Five lets Klaus lay him down on the bed under the covers, before kicking off his shoes and switching off the light. As he climbs in next to him, Five scoots up right beneath his chin, settling himself as physically close to Klaus as he can manage. Wrapping long arms around his tiny shoulders, Klaus cuddles him in return, pressing his cheek against the top of Five’s head.

The question is almost so soft that Klaus nearly misses it.

“Was it ‘cause of me?”

He blinks dumbly. “What?”

“Did James go because I was bad?”

“No.” Klaus is proud at how strong the rebuttal is, and he shimmies down the bed, putting his face closer to Five’s. “Absolutely not. You did _nothing_ wrong, Five. I promise you didn’t. James just decided he was going to be a bully, and bullies aren’t nice people. That’s why he left, because I don’t like that.”

It’s hard to see Five’s expression in the dark, and Klaus curses himself for not opening the curtains a little, not least because Five’s still at an age where the dark is scary and dangerous. He has Sir Swims-A-Lot tight in his hands, from the little Klaus can make out, and he feels rather than sees Five nod.

“Ok.”

“I’m sorry I woke you up.” Klaus says gently, running his fingers through Five’s hair and carefully working a knot he finds. “Why don’t we both go to sleep, ok? We can have a nice big breakfast in the morning, and if the weather’s nice, perhaps we could go feed the ducks, just you and me. Does that sound fun?”

Five nods again and snuggles close. “Night night, Daddy.”

“Goodnight, Five.”

“Love you.”

Klaus sniffs and curls around him. “Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sniffs* Yep, I can smell the smoke from the torches. The angry mob must be on the way.
> 
> James, the next morning, looking at his car which is somehow on the roof of the neighbouring building: What the fuck?
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


	12. 13th December 2010

****

**13th December 2010**

The first indication that anything’s wrong is that the house turns _silent_.

Not just quiet. For them, quiet means Mom humming while she does laundry, and Vanya practicing her violin off in her room. It means Five’s settled down with his toys or a book or a movie, chatting away to whoever’s with him about this, that, or the other. 

Quiet means the gentle thwacking noise of Diego’s knives as they hit their target, and Luther sitting at his bedroom desk putting together another plane model, his chair resting over the creaky floorboards and making them squeak as he shifts about. In the kitchen, Klaus will be singing to himself as he does his nails, or chops food for dinner, or organises Five’s little packed lunch ready for the next day, muttering as he tries to remember everything. Sometimes he will flick the radio on, filling the mansion with cheesy pop music.

For the Academy, quiet doesn’t equal silence, just the calm, relaxed energy typically found on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Silence is different. Silence is scary. It means something’s happened, something terrible, or bloody, or dangerous. It means no one’s willing to make so much as a peep of noise, too afraid to shatter whatever fragile illusion they might’ve built up, and a pin dropping on the other side of the house could startle them all from their skin. 

The house is never silent without reason. Even at night, when they’re all tucked up in bed and the world is dreaming away outside, the house is never devoid of noise. There’s always some kind of sound breaking through the dark, the settling of wood, the old pipes rattling, the clatter of the radiators turning themselves on. There are the soft padded footsteps as someone heads to the bathroom or down to the kitchen for water, and the clatter as they pull out a glass from the cupboard.

Quiet is welcome, silence is not.

So, silence is Ben’s first clue.

The second is the voice calling on one of the upper floors, just out of hearing range.

It’s not Five, which is why neither Ben nor Klaus look up from their respective books as they slouch about the living room. Ben’s busy revisiting a volume he’d only managed to get halfway through before he died, and Klaus absently flicks over the pages of a cookbook he picked up when grocery shopping with Mom, occasionally writing something down on a small notepad next to him.

They’ve been like this for nearly forty minutes, simply enjoying each other’s company without the need to chatter. It reminds Ben of before, when it was just him and Klaus and Five against the world, on the days when Klaus would settle with his bills or bank account statements, going over what they could and couldn’t afford while Five doodled on old bits of newspaper and Ben reclined on the couch. 

They’d had many moments like that, of merely existing in the same space. Five’s never been the type of kid to outrightly demand attention twenty-four hours a day, and as long as he had some kind of activity to occupy his hands, he was happy to let his Dad work and Ben pretend he could sleep.

Now, Five has four playmates to keep him company, plus Mom, and he blooms for it.

As he turns to the next page, Ben lightly muses the voice, putting it down as likely Luther or Diego. It’s probably both, knowing his brothers, shouting at one another from different rooms because they can’t be bothered to get up and talk like normal human beings.

The third indication that something’s wrong comes from Klaus sitting up in his armchair, slowly lowering his book.

“What?” Ben asks lazily, his eyes on his reading.

“Shh.” Waving a hand at Ben to silence him, Klaus tilts his head to one side, trying to listen through the multiple layers of floor without much success.

“They’re probably just arguing over something.” Ben sighs tiredly, adjusting his grip on the tome sat on his stomach. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Ignoring him, Klaus gets to his feet and dumps the cookbook on the coffee table as he passes by, walking out into the lobby to stand at the bottom of the stairs. Ben peeks over the top of his book, watching as he leans against the banister, the toes of his shoe nervously tapping against the floor.

Chewing on his lip, Ben lets the book fall flat against him, rolling his eyes and sitting up. Footsteps march around above him, creaking the floorboards and muffled only by the expensive padding of Reginald’s carpets.

“Diego’s probably just mad Luther stole the last of Mom’s cookies.” He calls, his voice tilting up with the expectation of being right. “That or Luther borrowed one of his knifes again.”

Klaus glances at him, peering over his shoulder to directly face Ben, and there’s something in his eyes that gives Ben pause, makes his non-existent heckles raise up like a cat suddenly realising it’s being watched by a dog.

His brother is pale, and he has been all his life. The only time he ever gains a bit of colour to him is if he lays out in the sun for literal hours, and in the cooler winter weather of the last few months that hasn’t happened anytime recently.

However, as Ben blinks at him now, he can’t help but feel that the dark circles under Klaus’ eyes appear bolder, darker. There’s a horrible air lingering between them, and Ben frowns, feeling as if he’s missed something.

The moment’s broken when Diego comes marching across the balconies circling the living room and lobby, heading towards the stairs with purpose.

“I don’t know.” He calls out to someone, tone light with controlled panic. “He isn’t in-” Cutting himself off with a squeak, Ben hears the exact moment his brother twigs Klaus is listening. There’s a pause, long and awkward, and then, as Ben slowly gets to his feet, “Hey Klaus.”

“Hi Diego.” Klaus says, mulling the words over in his mouth. It’s the way he normally speaks when he finds Five doing something he shouldn’t and is waiting for Five to confess. “What’s up?”

Ben walks into the lobby just in time to see Diego school his expression into one that’s neutral.

“Why’d you think something’s wrong?” Diego asks, clearing his throat. “I was just-”

“Five’s not with Mom.” Luther butts in, emerging from a random doorway only to abruptly snap his mouth shut when his eyes lock onto Klaus. “Um-”

Klaus wobbles, and his grip on the banister tightens. “You’ve _lost_ Five?”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Diego and Luther glance at each other.

“Ok, we have.”

“No, we haven’t.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Klaus growls, launching himself up the stairs and rounding on the brother happens to be nearest, which is Diego. ““What happened? How’d you lose him?”

“We…It wasn’t on purpose!” Diego defends, backing up a little. Ben makes his way up to join them, resting a hand against Klaus’ back. If Klaus notices, he doesn’t show it. “We were tossing a ball about and he vanished!”

Under his hand, Ben feels Klaus stiffen. “Vanished?”

“Um, jumped?” Luther tries to clarify. “The walking into blue thing?” He makes a gesture with his hands; one Ben and Klaus have seen enough times to know what it’s indicating.

Klaus’ fingers start playing together, his nails picking at the loose threads of his sweater sleeves. “And he’s not in his room? Or the playroom? Or the courtyard? Were you talking about somewhere when he jumped? Because that happened a few times before, when he was little. He used to jump to places we were talking about. Went to his school, once, gave us both a heart attack-”

“Klaus.” Ben cuts in, halting the rambling in its tracks as his brother gets more and more wound up with each shake of their head from his brothers. “It’s fine. He’s five now, we knew it was going to happen sooner rather than later. The first time around he was only went downstairs, so he’s probably just in one of the rooms. Why don’t you two,” Ben nods at Luther and Diego, “Check this floor, and we’ll do the next one up, yeah?”

“Sure, ok.” Luther says, watching Klaus. “We’ll find him.”

Klaus doesn’t respond to that, simply burying his eyes into the heels of his hands and sucking in a sharp breath.

Glancing at each other, Diego and Luther take off in opposite directions, vanishing down the corridors of the mansion and leaving Ben and Klaus stood alone at the top of the staircase.

“Klaus calm down. You’re working yourself into a panic.” Trying to rub his brother’s arms, Ben gets his hands batted away, Klaus’ fingers lightly smacking against his wrists.

“You don’t get it!” Klaus laughs with little humour. “Last time, we didn’t know he could time travel. He could’ve gone anywhere, any _time_, we don’t-”

“This is just him tripping over himself.” Ben attempts to reason. “Klaus, he used to do it daily. Time travel, it’s _different_, ok? You’ve seen him. He has to think about it, concentrate, he’s not going to vanish off just because he had two left feet for a moment.”

“How do you know that? How do we know anything this time around? We’ve changed things! Everything’s different! We can’t-”

“Dad! Uncle Ben!”

Abruptly, Klaus whirls around to stare down at the bottom of the stairs, where Five excitedly bounces up and down on his toes. His once black hair has gone stark white, as have his clothes, arms, feet, and face with what Ben can only assume is the remains of the bag of flour Mom keeps for cooking in the kitchen pantry. As he jumps, Five sends scatters of the stuff tumbling off him to create blotchy patterns on the wooden floor.

“I flew!” Five exclaims. “It was so cool!”

“Five.” Klaus breathes out shakily, before hammering down the stairs and scooping him up. “Thank Christ.”

“Lots of things fell on me.” Five informs him as he’s hugged tightly, his feet dangling as Klaus holds him close. His face is pressed over Klaus’ shoulder, and he waves at Ben as he slowly comes down to join them. “Will Grandma be cross?”

When it becomes clear Klaus is too preoccupied to answer, Ben smiles stiffly at Five. “No, I don’t think so. But maybe you should offer to help clear it up.”

“I flew Uncle Ben!” Five’s grin is wide enough that it must be hurting. “All the way from my room to the kitchen!”

“So I hear.” Ben hums, crossing his arms. “I also think a bath is in order.”

Five’s face drops. “No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Casually starts filing my nails*
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


	13. 27th January 2011

****

**27th January 2011**

Family meetings have to be scheduled these days.

Before, they were just called at random, at the will and whim of whoever was spearheading it. Klaus never got to be that person. When he was a kid he was too high to know anything warranting a secret meeting in one of their bedrooms, and when they met up again as adults he was far too preoccupied with Five’s return to have the time to herd his siblings into the same general area.

Since they’ve been back, however, reset the timeline, snapped the clapperboard and started again, they’ve all had to become a bit more particular about when and where these meetings take place. Book them down in the diary, so to speak.

This is for a number of reasons. Firstly, they’re getting older. At physically twenty-one their roots have been well settled, and they’re now starting to branch out into the world and make their own way. They’re no longer lanky, awkward teens, but young adults with a bit more clue then most on which direction they want to go.

Vanya’s back with her orchestra, rising through the ranks at a pace they all pat her on the back for, and Allison’s been flittering in and out of random theatre groups in local halls, not acting, but lending a knowing hand with the makeup, costumes, and set design where needed.

Luther’s managed to get himself a job at the local science museum, and while it’s only voluntary he’s happy enough working there until something paid comes along. Meanwhile Diego’s returned to the old gym Klaus vaguely remembers from Timeline One, dutifully training away for his first boxing match coming up next month.

Ben is, unsurprisingly, at the library, though it was a bit of a shock to find he’d been put in charge of the children’s section and the various kid-orientated reading groups. Apparently mentioning he has a young nephew was enough to convince the staff he’d be good for the role, and while Ben initially had full intentions to be with the more academic books, he’s taking the job as it comes. Several times now Klaus has walked in on him cutting out shapes to be glued to pictures or writing down notes on possible activities he could run based on the book of the week. 

The second reason they pick their moments is because of Five. He’s too young for family meetings and the important things they discuss and letting him sit in would only result in him getting bored and restless, which, Klaus knows, would then spiral into a whiney and stroppy child.

Not only that but having lived with Five for longer than his son realises, Klaus is well aware that he will internalise whatever problem gets brought up and deduce that it’s _his_ duty to figure it out. It’s a habit he’s had since he was tiny, even back in their terrible first apartment with the bugs and the rats and the neighbours that would make Klaus hold Five’s hand a little tighter.

There were occasions, when the pressure mounted and Klaus couldn’t remember what it was like to be a teenager anymore, when he would find himself crying. Not loudly, not in a way that Five would find scary, but enough that sometimes his baby would come toddling over, patting him on the back or knee and asking what’s wrong before attempting to cheer him up in his sweet way. As he grew older and they moved into their nicer apartment, Five would offer to go without things, clothes that fit and workbooks, just so they could keep the precious coppers Klaus was paid.

Now, Five’s a child again.

He’s young, still trying to grasp the world around him, and it’s highly unlikely he’d fully comprehend what he thinks he has to figure out. When that happens, Five typically ends up confused and bewildered, which develops into him getting cross, both at himself and anyone around. Then come the tantrums and the meltdowns and the misunderstandings, and the hugs and cuddles as they make up afterwards.

It happened all the time in Timeline One, when he and Ben were trying to teach him not to jump in public. Five couldn’t comprehend why they’d tell him not to do something when it felt so natural, why he’d get scolded and put in the naughty corner when it was simply his first instinct to bounce from one side of the park to the other cashing butterflies or leaves or whatever else had his attention. Klaus had hated it with a passion, but it was something he was forced to struggle through regardless, for his son’s safety.

Look how well that turned out.

Five’s the topic of most of the family meetings anyway, so even if Klaus did want Five listening in, he couldn’t.

The clock on the wall ticks thirteen minutes passed eleven, and Klaus is bone tired.

He’s sat at the table, massaging away the lingering pains of a headache, a cooling cup of coffee mostly forgotten in front of him. Now Five’s starting to spend most of his day at kindergarten, and soon enough school, Klaus has taken the opportunity to pick up a little part time work at the local corner shop named _The Last Minute_, owned by a woman called Mrs Ridley.

Unfortunately, he got lumbered with the dead hours, bookmarking the day with a five-to-eight morning and nine-to-eleven night. He can’t really grumble, though, considering that this still lets him take Five to kindergarten and pick him up and put him to bed each night, not to mention the fact that Reginald’s money won’t last forever, and the small trickle of his paycheck heading towards his account is the start of him having something of his own to rely on.

He can also slap the experience down on his CV, should there ever be the need.

His latest shift finished nearly quarter of an hour ago, and to be frank Klaus wants nothing more than a shower and then to stumble off to bed. However, it seems everybody’s decided that tonight, right now, when he’s dozing on his feet, is the _perfect_ time for a family meeting, and he’s been given no wiggle room to sneak out of it.

Sitting sideways in the chair, Klaus rests his elbow on the back of it and cups his head in his palm, attempting not to drift off as they slowly take turns to discuss whatever deserves discussing only forty-five minutes to midnight.

“So, yeah, rehearsal went fine after that. I don’t think anyone even noticed in the first place.” Vanya concludes, wrapping up her tale which Klaus hadn’t really paid much attention to.

“You did well, controlling it in the heat of the moment.” Allison says, taking Vanya’s hand. “You’ve come so far. We’re proud of you.”

Smiling, Vanya ducks her head a little under the attention. “Thank you.” She says, then swiftly moves the topic onto, “Anything else that needs to be said?”

“Yep.” Ben sticks up his hand from where he’s perched on the corner of the kitchen table, then stares directly at Klaus who blinks sleepily back at him. “When are we going to tell Five about Timeline One?”

Just like that, Klaus is _awake._

“What?” He squawks, boggling at Ben as he sits up straight. “Surely you’re not thinking-”

“He has a right to know.”

“He’s _five_.” Klaus emphasises, eyes skimming over the rest of his family and blanking when he sees other faces mulling the idea over. “You have to be kidding, he’s too young! You seriously want to tell a five-year-old that a different version of himself _died_ because we weren’t competed enough to get our shit together? You can’t-”

“We wouldn’t put it like that.” Allison tries to placate him, holding out a peaceful hand as if trying to calm a cornered cat. The other squeezes Vanya’s. “You know we wouldn’t. We wouldn’t even have to say about the apocalypse, and everything else that comes with it. But Five’s smart, Klaus, he’s quick to pick up on these things. The sooner we start-”

Perhaps it’s the fact that he’s exhausted, that’s he’s been up since four this morning because he forgot to make Five’s packed lunch and had to get up earlier than normal to sort it. Maybe’s it’s the way Allison looks at him, as if she truly has any idea when it comes to Five, and the assumption in her words that suggests Klaus doesn’t. 

In fact, it could be because all his siblings have been acting like that, _are_ acting like that, as if they know his son, and understand what he can cope with. The reality is only he and Ben understand Five on a deep, meaningful level, one which none of them bothered to learn the first time around.

Klaus can’t help it. Something snaps in his chest, something heated and protective and raw.

“_Don’t_ try and tell me what my son is and isn’t like.” He all but growls. “Five’s not ready. Only a few days ago he crawled into my bed because he was scared of some trailer he saw on TV. This will terrify him.”

“I think what Allison means to say is that he’s intelligent,” Diego adds to the mix, “He’s going to notice we’re hiding something from him at some point. We shouldn’t drag it out.”

“Keeping major secrets only hurts.” Vanya comments, almost absently.

“Yeah, you know what? You’re _right_, Diego.” Sitting back in the chair, Klaus crosses his arms and legs. “Five is intelligent. And d’you know what’ll happen if we tell him he had another life? He’ll ask why he isn’t living it now, what happened to make us all come back here, how we know _for a fact_ that life on Earth was about to end and leave behind an apocalyptic wasteland with only cockroaches for company.”

“Klaus-” Ben tries, sounding mildly guilty for bringing the topic up in the first place.

“He’ll want to know what the first Five was like.” Klaus presses on, fixing Ben with an expression that dares his brother to disagree. Ben withers. “Where we lived, what we did, if I’ve ever taken him somewhere to remember the first Five. _Then_ he’ll inevitably ask me which Five I love more, and before you know it, he’ll insecure as hell about everything. His personality will change, he’ll switch his hobbies and interests, he’ll be more likely to keep things from us, from _me_. Five will believe doing any of that would only remind us of his first version and make us upset. Once we tell him, we won’t be able to take it back. Unless,” He gestures at Allison, “We decide to erase it, and I’m not letting my son be rumoured.”

An awkward air circles the room, his siblings glancing away as soon as he sets his gaze on them. Allison’s and Vanya’s hands are tight now, interlocking fingers gripping as if clinging to a lifeline in the suddenly uncomfortable atmosphere. Luther hovers, his head swivelling from one person to the next, and Diego now leans against the kitchen counter, his head dipped and his eyes fixed hard on the floor.

Ben stares at the table, fidgeting with his hands. “So,” He starts, ignoring as all eyes turn to him. He tilts his head at Klaus. “When _do_ we tell him?”

“There’s no _we_ in it. _I’ll_ tell him when _I_ think he’s ready.”

“Klaus,” Luther says, his voice chastising but soft, “You don’t have to do it on your own. We all want to be there, to help-”

Clicking his tongue, Klaus interrupts, “And that will just put him on the spot. Telling Five is going to be a process, and his reaction will be…difficult. Vanya, can you honestly tell me you would’ve wanted to find everything out right in front of the entire family?”

His sister blinks widely at him, momentarily taken back at being thrusted into the centre of attention. She swallows, and bites her lip, her shoulders falling a little in an indication that Klaus has won his point.

“No.” She sighs, flicking an apologetic glance Luther’s way. “Don’t get me wrong, I would’ve wanted someone with me, but everyone? It would’ve been…Too much.”

“Ok, fine, so Klaus tells him.” Ben states, and once again turns towards Klaus. “So, when _will_ you do it?”

“When I think he’s ready.” Klaus grits.

“Yeah, but when? When Five’s six? Seven? Ten? You can’t keep it up forever, Klaus, he’s-”

The bizarre sound of space ripping apart bursts into life at the end of the table, making them all startle, and seconds later Five comes stumbling out of the blue. He lands in an uncoordinated mess of limbs, dropping Sir Swims-A-Lot as he catches himself on the kitchen tiles. Quiet sniffing instantly fills the room.

“Five?” Klaus calls gently, leaning forward, and Five scoots around on his knees to blink large wet eyes at him.

“Dad.” He gulps, and grabs Sir Swims-A-Lot, holding the fish tight. ““You weren’t in your room.”

“Aw, I’m sorry buddy.” Klaus opening his arms is as much invitation as Five needs to scurry across and clamber onto his lap, burying his face deep into Klaus’ chest. Wrapping his arms around him, Klaus rocks them back and forth. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Saying nothing, Five nods, and Klaus scoops him up and stands, settling him against his hip. Wordlessly, he leaves, ignoring whatever whispers follow as he starts heading towards Five’s bedroom. His son hiccups pathetically, clinging to him, and Klaus runs a soothing hand against his back, raking fingers through freshly washed hair.

“It’s ok, Hawaii Five-O. There’s nothing to be scared about.” Pressing a kiss against his forehead, Klaus promises, “I’m going to look after you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are in the future and it's bright~


	14. 22nd May 2012

****

**22nd May 2012**

“Parkour.” Says Ben.

“Seriously, just let the kid box.” Diego huffs impatiently, stood with his arms crossed in the middle of the Academy gym. Luther and Ben hover beside him, forming an intense little circle of clashing ideas under the bright buzzing lights.

“I still think weights are a good idea.” Luther counters, nodding towards his collection against the wall. “We’ve still got loads of my starter ones.”

“If we teach him martial arts, he can defend himself.” Allison calls from her yoga mat, halfway through her daily routine. Her hair is tied into a tight ponytail, lose strands stuck to her forehead as she balances perfectly, a sunbeam shining through the window to set a warm spring glow around her figure.

“Parkour.” Ben says again.

“Boxing teaches self-defence! And discipline!”

“It teaches kicking the sh-” Allison abruptly snaps her mouth shut and readjusts, “_Hell_ out of people. There’s no art to it.”

“_Excuse_ me?”

“We don’t even need to teach him self-defence right now.” Putting out a hand to stop Diego before he can go surging up towards their sister, Luther sighs. “We just want to ease him into training.”

“_Parkour_.”

Sat against the wall with Vanya to one side and Five on his lap, Klaus watches the scene unfold with resigned amusement.

Vanya snickers into her palm.

The current disagreement all started when Ben approached him at breakfast with the idea of giving Five some kind of physical outlet. They both know well enough that Five’s natural state is _moving_, something that increases tenfold with the appearance of his powers and the need he feels to zap around and be everywhere instantly. 

It’s something Klaus can relate to, the inability to switch his powers off. 

In fact, it’s something Luther and Diego have always been able to relate to as well, now with Vanya joining their midst. For them, their powers are a constant, always thrumming below the surface, making it near impossible to exist without them. Diego doesn’t know a life without impeccable aim, and Luther without his strength. It takes certain lengths for Klaus to escape the dead haunting his every move, and Vanya has to be drugged up to her brain in order not to feel the fine tune wavelengths wafting around her non-stop.

For Allison and Ben, it’s different.

Their sister only needs to avoid phrasing her words a certain way in order to not rumour someone. Her ability is either active or it isn’t, and that’s simply that. There’s no muddling in-between, no grey area to mess around with, just four words and boom, there’s her powers.

Ben’s somewhere in the middle. He’s neither fully in control like Allison nor a passenger like the rest of them, and when he was dead _The Horror_ never came out at all. Since they’ve been back, he’s been training, learning how to summon it and how to banish it away, achieving things Reginald only ever dreamed of doing because allowed himself to take his time, not to rush, and do everything on his own terms.

If things became too much? Ben stopped. If he wasn’t feeling well that day? He didn’t train at all. If he gets tired halfway through? He takes a break and has a snack.

It’s amazing, really, what could’ve happened if only Reginald had _listened._

Still, Ben’s now at the point where unless he’s majorly spooked by something, he no longer has to worry about accidentally unleashing death and destruction upon his family. Therefore, he ends up in the Allison category of powers.

Five joins the Luther-Diego-Klaus-Vanya club.

Jumping is simply part of who he is. From the first moment he accomplishes it, Five’s on the move, bouncing around like a pinball as if trying to scratch an itch he can’t reach. It makes him frustrated, irritable when he’s forced to take the so-called _long way_ through walking or getting a bus, leaving his tapping fingers and leg jittering.

In Timeline One, Klaus was forced to sit through many confused tantrums, when Five didn’t understand why he was being disciplined for jumping in public. He’d been too young to truly realise the motivations behind Klaus’ rules, too young to appreciate the precautions his father was putting him in place to keep him safe, and only knew that his Dad was telling him off for something that he didn’t deem fair.

Klaus had hated it, loathed it even, hearing the confused and angry words from his son and the gentle encouragement from Ben. However, needs had, unfortunately, must, and he was left with no choice but to teach Five not to always go with his natural, power-wielding instinct. There had been too much at risk, too many eyes that could potentially spot him.

Looking at where they are now, obviously Klaus wasn’t very good at his job.

The beginnings of this impulse are starting to show, the impatience, the sudden bopping to and from places instead of walking like before. The truth is that Five will always be going at a hundred miles an hour, both in body with his powers and his mind with the genius Klaus knows will make his son amazing, and nothing they do will ever change that.

So, they should give him an outlet to burn some of that energy away, especially now before he starts school. It’ll help them avoid half the parent-teacher meetings he had to attend in Timeline One.

Christ, Klaus wishes he was given this kind of heads up back then. Anything would’ve been better than the sheer, blind _panic_ he’d guessed his way through, pepped with the seasoning of making things up on the spot.

Maybe things would’ve turned out different.

Maybe Five’s life would’ve been better.

Maybe his son would’ve _survived_.

He hugs Five a little closer to his chest, resting his chin on top of his head. Soft curls of dark hair tickle against his skin, and he resists the sudden urge to bury himself within them.

The argument continues.

“Yeah, newsflash bro, those weights? Miles too heavy for him. He’d break an arm.”

Luther scowls at Diego. “We wouldn’t use those; we’ve got the super light-”

“Light by your standards, perhaps, but not for the rest of us. He’s _six_, he’ll get hurt.”

“For the last goddamn time, _parkour!”_

“Swear jar!” Five points out, and Ben pouts, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Beside him, Vanya snorts, leaning in to whisper, “If this goes on for longer than the week, you’re going to have to keep me updated.”

Klaus chuckles lightly, eyes still on his brothers. 

Allison and Vanya have decided to make the first step into becoming _independent adults_, and the house is currently a mess of boxes in preparation for Friday when they finally move into their small apartment thirty minutes away. The entire family went to have a look when they received the confirmation that they’d got it, Mom included, and Klaus was forced to admit, it was nice.

Nicer than any of the apartments he managed to scrape up, at least.

Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a joint kitchen/living space, and a couple of cupboards for storage. There were large windows to let in light, and the neighbours, when they briefly met on the stairs, seemed welcoming and friendly. The street it’s on is pretty good as well, far away from the bars and clubs that spew out people at ungodly times.

Klaus never had that. He had drug addicts who’d leave needles in the hallways, and party goers who enjoyed blasting music inappropriate for tiny ears. He had Mrs Keller wailing as she drifted through the walls in her leather gear, and people yelling in the street in the early hours of the morning.

He shouldn’t be bitter, he knows that.

His sisters have been through a lot, both in the previous timeline and this, and they deserve some quality time together as they work out the next steps of their new life. They’ve been so excited, coming home covered in paint and dust and grinning from ear to ear, and Mom’s already written almost an entire cookbook full of recipes for them to try themselves, plus made a nice little cross stitch to hang on their wall.

Klaus keeps to himself that he spied the small heart-shaped plaque of wood in one of Allison’s boxes, the curled carving in the centre lovingly spelling out _Claire_ in a way that made a lump choke his throat.

Instead, he wonders if they’ll also have to deal with bugs invading their home.

Probably not.

Wiggling off Klaus’ lap, Five goes scampering over to Ben, wedging himself right in the centre of the disagreement to stare up at his Uncles.

“I wanna run!”

“Run?” Diego blinks down at him. “What, like treadmills and shi-”

“We have a treadmill.” Luther cuts off with a scathing look that Five totally misses. “And there’s always the park.”

“And at the park, we can also teach him parkour.”

“You’re obsessed, bro.” Diego tells Ben flatly. “_Obsessed_.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” Vanya starts quietly beside Klaus, dropping her voice so none of the others can hear them, “What you’re going to do about Five and school.”

Klaus frowns, turning towards her. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, her fingers tapping against her lap. “Well, you’ve always said Five’s smart. I know the…First time around he was in school, but I wondered if you thought about going private now? Hiring tutors and stuff?” Shrugging again, Vanya crosses her arms, bringing her knees up. “I’m only asking because one of the girls in the orchestra is also an English tutor. Figured I could get _connections_ or whatever.”

Five would _excel_ with private tuition.

Klaus doesn’t even need to ponder the _ifs_ or _buts_, Five would. He’d fly through the material at a rate of knots he could only daydreamed about in Timeline One, and every opportunity would have its door flung open in front of him. There’d be no more worrying about classmates and bullies, or other people holding him back, just pure freedom in education and the chance to properly home in that amazing brain of his.

However, _however_, Klaus knows Five.

He knows his ego.

It’s not giant, not like Reginald’s was, but it’s there, sitting right alongside his genius. Klaus had to do everything in his power to keep it in check, to make sure that fault line didn’t sever through the kind, helpful, cheeky personality. More often than not, it was so easy for others to dismiss Five as arrogant and selfish, when in truth he was one of the most dedicated, determined, loving people Klaus knew, even if he did try to hide it as he got older.

If Five has private tutors, he gains freedom and a better education but loses his spark, the part of his soul Klaus has to fight to make sure others see. If there’s no friends for Five to bond with, no people in class to rival his mind or to make him realise everyone learns at different paces and that’s ok, he’ll turn into something Klaus won’t be able to stand, and as a parent he can’t allow that to happen.

It’ll give him a normal childhood as well, to go to school instead of being locked up in the Academy walls for days upon end.

They would’ve given their right arms for something like that, growing up.

“No.” Klaus shakes his head, offering a grateful smile at Vanya. “Thanks for the offer, but no. Five’s won’t be going private. I’ll get him somewhere better than before, sure, but I want him to have that kind of experience. I think he’s better for it.”

He returns his gaze to the argument just in time to see Five flinging himself back onto his lap, leaving no time to yelp and throw his arms out before the full weight of the six-year-old lands on his legs and crushes him spectacularly, boggling his eyes and knocking the wind out of him hard enough that he splutters.

“Uncle Diego’s going to teach me to run!” Five starts babbling instantly, apparently unbothered by the fact that he’s just flattened his father half to death while his Aunt Vanya loudly laughs unsympathetically beside them. “I’m gonna run _so fast_.”

“Sure you will, Hawaii Five-O.” Klaus croaks. “Also, I can’t feel my legs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben is the embodiment of that one vine that just kept saying “parkour” over and over again as if it was some kind of elegant dance
> 
> Also,
> 
> Me, posting last chapter: Ok, so here I begin to show that Klaus is getting possessive of-
> 
> Literally everyone: KLAUS IS RIGHT EVERYONE ELSE SHUT THE HELL UP
> 
> Me: Cool, not the message I was intending, but alright


	15. 26th April 2013

****

**26th April 2013**

“Hey, Five.”

“Hm?”

“Five, wake up.”

Groaning into his pillow, Five’s mind is pulled from the comfortable darkness of sleep. He tugs the blankets tighter around himself in mild protest, smacking his lips and bringing his knees up into a ball. The person chuckles, a gentle hand curling around his shoulder and carefully shaking him.

“C’mon, you’ll want to see this.”

“See what?” Curiosity nudges against the tiredness fuzzing his brain, and Five peels his eyes open, blinking blearily in the low light of his room. With great effort, he rolls from his side onto his back. 

Overhead in great swirls, his glow-in-the-dark stars spread across his ceiling, a present from Dad for his last birthday. Uncle Diego helped Five put them up, wheeling in the stepladder he is not usually allowed to touch and letting him climb up to the top so he could stick them where he wanted.

They only just managed to switch places before Dad came into his room to see how they were getting on. Uncle Diego nearly tipped the ladder over by climbing too fast.

At his window, the thin curtains drawn together let in the muffled beams of streetlights, and as Five starts to absently search under the covers for Sir-Swims-A-Lot, he uses this to pick out the faint colour of blonde hair.

“Uncle Luther?” He croaks, swallowing dryly.

His Uncle nods, grabbing the bottle of water at his bedside and offering it to Five. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Taking it, Five sits up, rubbing at his eyes and then tiredly fiddling with the cap until it comes off. As he glugs down a couple of gulps, Uncle Luther perches on the side of his bed, offering out Sir Swims-A-Lot from where he must have fallen on the floor.

Holding the fish close, Five comments, “It’s still dark.”

“I know. It’s really, really late. Even your Dad’s asleep.” Uncle Luther pauses, and does something with his face that Five cannot properly see. “I wanted to show you something cool.”

“At night?”

“Yep. It kinda has to be.”

“What _kinda_ something cool?” Five asks, which he thinks he is allowed to, even if Uncle Luther scoffs. Sometimes his Aunts and Uncles have funny ideas about what is considered cool, like the time Uncle Diego showed him an old TV show, or when Aunt Allison took lots of pictures of the giraffes at the zoo.

“_Something_ that can only be appreciated at the moment. Do you have your slippers and dressing gown? It’s going to be chilly.”

Pushing back the blankets, Five plops his feet into the crocodile slippers Aunt Vanya gave him at Christmas, and stands, holding Sir Swims-A-Lot to his chest. His thumb rubs against one of the fins.

“Is Dad coming?”

“No. Actually, he’ll probably yell at me for this, so maybe don’t tell him?” Locating Five’s dressing gown on his desk chair, Uncle Luther helps Five pull on the sleeves.

As he ties the belt in the knot Uncle Ben showed him, Five asks, “Is it something bad?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Uncle Luther instantly reassures, squeezing his shoulder. He sighs, pulling out a flashlight from his pocket and offering out his hand for Five, who takes it quickly. “It’s just…Your Dad’s a little protective. Which is good! Your Dad’s being very sensible. But I don’t think he’d want you to do this, even though it’s perfectly fine.”

“Oh.” Five blinks, and he holds Sir Swims-A-Lot tighter. “So, this is a secret? Just for us?”

“Yeah, Five. Just for us. Think you can do that?”

Nodding furiously, Five follows as Uncle Luther leads them out the room. “Uh-huh. I-”

“Shh.” Uncle Luther shushes softly, holding a finger to his lips. He then points at Dad’s and Uncle Ben’s bedroom doors.

Five nods and makes a show of zipping his lips together with the hand holding Sir Swims-A-Lot. Silently, they sneak down the corridor, Uncle Luther’s flashlight swinging back and forth as they walk, and Five suddenly realise it is a good thing that he is here, because his Uncle has no idea where the noisy floorboards are and how to avoid them. Pulling back a little to get Uncle Luther’s attention, Five points a finger at the floorboard he was about to step on and then shows him the way around it.

Dad did not like it when Five used to creep out of this room or the playroom and go somewhere else, though Five does not know why because Dad would never tell him, so he had to learn how to be super sneaky about going to the kitchen for a snack, or when he used to listen to Aunt Vanya play her violin when she still lived here. 

Now he has his powers, Five is able to simply jump from place to place instead, which makes it a lot easier.

When they reach the end of the hallway, they pause and listen, straining to hear over the sound of their breathing and the noise of the house. Dad can sometimes be a light sleeper, something Five discovered when he got up to try and watch late TV once, however only silence answers them, meaning they must be in the clear.

The flashlight illuminating the way in front of them, Uncle Luther guides them up the stairs, holding his hand extra tightly in the weird way all grownups do even though Five is not a baby and can manage just fine. 

They do not talk, too nervous as getting caught to do so, and it is not until they are completely clear from earshot that Five plucks up the courage to speak.

“What’re we doing?”

“We’re going to the roof.”

Five feels his jaw drop. “The _roof?”_

“Yep.”

They start winding up a narrower staircase, one that twists and makes Uncle Luther hover over him. At the top is the door Five vaguely remembers seeing the last time he was here. It is old and white, but even in the dark he can see bits of paint have flaked off and left weird snow-like specks on the floor.

“But…But…I’m not _allowed_ on the roof.”

He had only attempted it once, and in his defence Five had not realised the door he was trying to open was to the top of their home, he had just wanted to see what was on the other side. Most of the doors in the house are locked and shut tight, and Five honestly expected that one to be the same, so when it creaked back and a brush of fresh air hit his face, he simply _had_ to have a peek.

Dad was the one who caught him, only a few steps through the door, and held him tight and made him promise never to go up there again. He also made Five sit in the Naughty Chair, which was unfair seeing as Five did not mean to be on the roof.

Plus, he had been six, and the Naughty Chair was for babies.

It was _embarrassing._

“I know you’re not,” Uncle Luther says, quickly adding as he clicks off the flashlight and pockets it, “And I completely agree with your Dad. I don’t want you to ever come up here unless someone is bringing you up. Got it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“The only reason I’m letting you tonight is because I want to show you something. You won’t try to come up here by yourself?”

“No.”

Nodding, pleased, Uncle Luther goes for the handle, but then pauses, nibbling at his lip. He glances down at Five, who brushes the tip of his finger along Sir Swims-A-Lot’s stitched eye.

“Um, also, please don’t tell your Dad? Ever?” Uncle Luther’s voice is a little wobbly. “If you do, we’d both get in a lot of trouble and I wouldn’t be able to do this again.”

“I won’t tell anyone, Uncle Luther.” Five says seriously, giving him his best listening face. “I promise! I’m _really_ good at keeping secrets.”

“Great. Awesome. Uh, ok then.” 

Last time, Five did not get a proper look before Dad scooped him up. Now, however, as Uncle Luther ushers him out, Five has the chance to soak it all in.

It is a little anticlimactic.

The dirt underfoot is gravel-like, which is weird because Five always thought roofs were meant to be made from tiles or wood or something. As they walk across, it makes an odd crunchy noise, bits poking through the softer soles of his slippers and making him wince as they jab his feet. Uncle Luther keeps Five’s hand locked in his.

Belatedly, Five realises Sir Swims-A-Lot might want a look as well, rather than be clutched tightly into his chest, so Five carefully holds him up. He keeps his grip tight, just in case the fish gets excited and tries to jump from his hand, but after a moment Sir Swims-A-Lot declares that, because he is a fish, he does not like heights, and Five stuffs him deep into his dressing gown pocket where he does not have to see.

They are pretty high, as well. High enough that Five can clearly peer over all their neighbouring buildings. A breeze, as chilly as Uncle Luther predicted, floats across, brushing his hair as Five takes in the familiar sight of satellite dishes, wires, and fire escapes from a completely new angle.

“You can see for miles!” He exclaims, kind of wanting to go to the edge so he can peer down.

Uncle Luther snickers. “I don’t know about that, but what I wanted to show you is over here.”

They walk around a greenhouse (which Five thinks is weird because they already have a greenhouse in the courtyard so Grandma can look after her flowers, and there is no garden up here) and come across a large telescope and single chair.

The telescope is a blue colour, but even with all the streetlights it is hard to tell exactly what shade. It stands rigid, the tripod legs standing wide and stiff as it tilts upwards, and from what Five can see it has about a hundred different wheels and dials and buttons to press.

“Woah…”

“Don’t, uh…” Uncle Luther pauses when Five turns his face up to him and pinches his lips together. His thumb absently rubs against the back of Five’s hand, so Five squeezes his fingers back. “Don’t tell everyone else about this, either. The telescope, that is. They wouldn’t…I didn’t think I’d…”

Five frowns, not sure what he is meant to say. After a moment, he tries to reassure, “I won’t tell. I promise. Secrets are meant to be secret. Telling them is bad.”

Uncle Luther swallows, but then releases a breath, his shoulders falling as he smiles down at him. “Thanks, Five.”

“What can you see with the telescope?”

“Well…” Releasing his hand, Uncle Luther takes his shoulders and steers him forwards and onto the chair, dragging the telescope towards him. It even bigger up close, and looks super heavy as well, but Five guesses for Uncle Luther that is not an issue. “Take a look through there.”

“Where?”

“Here.” Uncle Luther taps a round thing sticking out to one side, which in the dark looks a little like the small end of binoculars.

Squeezing an eye shut tight, Five leans forward and stares through, gasping at the bright, detailed image of the moon which greets him.

“It’s so big!” He exclaims, pulling back to stare up at the sky and marvelling at how tiny it suddenly appears in comparison.

Scooping Five up, Uncle Luther sits in the chair, plonking him down on his lap. “You bet! This is the only place you can get a proper look, none of the rooms have windows tall enough for the telescope.” 

Five bends to look again. “What are all the bumps?”

“The bumps?”

“The…Holes? Really shallow holes?”

Sitting back, Uncle Luther crosses his arms and grins at him. “What do you reckon they are?”

Humming, Five frowns, absently swinging his feet. “They’re not _proper_ holes, because then there wouldn’t be a bottom.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, they can’t be holes then. They’re...Like bowls?” Five cups his hand together to demonstrate, and Uncle Luther nods.  
“Yep, a little. What do you think causes them?”

Five peers down the telescope. “It’d have to be really big. To make a…A dent like that.”

“It would.”

“Is it like when Dad dropped a ball in the sandpit at the park once?”

Uncle Luther chuckles. “Keep going…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone noticed we're rapidly approaching the end of this fic?
> 
> Just...Pointing that out.


	16. 15th June 2014

****

**15th June 2014**

Klaus tries very hard not to cry at the Father’s Day card in his hands.

It’s a piece of blue paper folded wonkily in half, an eight-year-old’s scrawl across the top declaring the day in orange felt tip. In the centre is a shaky but proud drawing of a trophy, proclaiming Klaus as the _World’s No.1 Dad!_

He has a list a mile long detailing every correction and complaint he could make about that but said list would only grow if he dared to voice them to his hopeful, if slightly bashful, son hovering beside him and waiting for the verdict. So, ignoring the knee-jerk instinct to grab a thick red pen and slice a large X through the word ‘best’, Klaus flings his arms around Five and drags him in for a tight hug.

“Hawaii Five-O! You _do_ care!” He teases as Five squirms. 

“Dad!”

“And here I thought you couldn’t stand to look at your deadbeat, loathsome-”

Five pushes against his chest, giggling but also wiggling. “Dad!”

Klaus ploughs on without missing a beat, “_Terrible_ excuse of a father! It warms my old heart that-”

“Dad, I can’t breathe!”

Releasing him, Klaus coos at the way Five’s soft hair clumps up into unorganised chaos, patting it down for him. Five’s cheeks are flushed, though if it’s solely from being crushed in the hug Klaus can’t tell.

“Did you draw this, Five?” Ben asks, despite the answer being obvious, sat the other side of the breakfast table with the card now in his hands.

It’s one of the rare times Klaus has company this late in the morning, minus Mom. Normally everyone else is at work, or in Diego’s case back at the Police Academy, leaving Klaus with the house to himself as he continues to cover the dead hours at the corner shop. Today, however, the library is getting fitted with new fire alarms, as well as a few other things, so all staff but Ben’s manager have been given the day off.

Five has also been freed, thanks to a burst water pipe flooding half his school.

Nodding, Five sits down in his chair, swinging his feet a little. “Yeah, we made them at the end of class. I, um, also got you this.”

A small wrapped package gets shoved Klaus’ way, circled with so much tape that he might have to break out the scissors if he ever wants a chance at getting in.

He gasps. “For little old me?”

Nodding, Five becomes very interested in his toast, fiddling with an uneaten slice.

As suspected, the gift is near impossible to open, and Klaus very nearly cracks a nail, but eventually he manages.

He cradles the keyring close.

“Oh, Five…”

His heart leaps up into his throat and stays there, making Klaus gulp thickly several times. It doesn’t help.

“I saw it in the shop the other day, when Uncle Luther had to take me to the museum with him?” Five’s voice slides upwards, as if he expects to get in trouble for buying Klaus a Father’s Day gift from his Uncle’s place of work. “I thought you’d…Like it?”

Klaus hates it.

Not because it’s in any way an improper gift, or because shooting stars aren’t really his thing, or even because it will probably spread glitter everywhere. If Klaus was anyone else, he’d be over the moon, doing a little dance of appreciation and smoothing Five’s still squishy cheeks with a thousand kisses until his son escaped his grasp and fled to his Uncle for safety.

He hates it because it reminds him of Five.

_His_ Five. The one that was his own, just his and Ben’s and nobody else’s.

Once upon a time, nearly a decade ago and not in this timeline, there had been a picture. It was not an extraordinary picture, and as time went on it became a little water damaged and crinkled at the edges, but it had been special, all the same. This picture had lived in his old wallet, in his old pair of jeans in his old life, and every time Klaus paid for something, he was met with the image of him and Five at Griddy’s.

That day is still clear in Klaus’ head. He had wangled one of the waitresses away from her work so she could take it, capturing the two of them on a rare Father’s Day treat of doughnuts for lunch. Five had smiled politely, indulging his father but feeling a bit awkward about it, while Klaus had looped an arm around him, beaming like the proud, unsuspecting father that he was.

What was also in the photograph, on the table in front of him and his beautiful, _beautiful_ son, was his card and present.

A novelty keyring.

Christ, Klaus would do anything for that picture now, that precious second of their lives stuck frozen forever. None of that came with him in their little skip across the timeline, no wallet, no photo, and no son he raised alone.

31st March 2019. The day his first child died.

8th November 2005. The day his second was born.

Klaus knows he should be grateful for that, having a fresh chance at raising Five. Allison would give an arm and a leg for that kind of opportunity. Claire is a taboo subject around her, one reserved for quiet one-to-one conversations behind closed doors with certain people, but it’s clear as day how much she longs to have the privilege Klaus has been graced with, the one he’s currently shunning.

Klaus swallows again, and resists squeezing his eyes shut.

He needs to bury out the bad memories and replace them with good. He needs to tunnel his vision to the positives around him and lead Five into the light that _this_ timeline has to offer.

Obviously, Klaus pauses for too long, because Five shifts uncomfortably and gently asks, “Do you not like it? I still have the receipt, so I can get something else. It’s ok.”

Staring at the keyring in his hand, Klaus forces his mouth into moving. “I _love_ it.” He says, putting as much emphasis he can into the words and praying he doesn’t accidentally overcompensate because of it. “Thank you, Five.”

“Oh. You’re sure?”

Unable to bring himself to talk again, Klaus just nods vigorously, curling his fingers around the keyring so he doesn’t have to look at it.

“Good.” Five goes back to concentrating on his toast, fiddling with a corner. “That’s…Good.”

“That’s very sweet, Five.” Ben says warmly. “It’s very thoughtful.”

Making a bit of a grumbling noise at the sickly sweetness being directed at him, Five buries his face into his breakfast and pretends to be fully invested in it, his cheeks tinged red. The display makes Klaus chuckle, even if his lips feel wobbly and unstable.

Standing, he ruffles Five’s hair.

“Here’s an idea, why don’t I go take a shower and change out of this,” He gestures to his uniform, “And the three of us head out somewhere? Or four, if Mom wants to come.”

“Anywhere in mind?” Ben asks.

“Hm, maybe the park?”

“We could have a picnic?” Five suggests, then quickly stuffs the last of his toast into his mouth and glances away.

Klaus hums approvingly. “An excellent choice, Hawaii Five-O! I’ll go freshen up, you two get busy making sandwiches.”

“And the rest of Mom’s cookies!” Ben adds.

Five chuckles. “I like the way you think.”

Klaus doesn’t believe he feels any eyes watching him as he leaves the kitchen, but in the last few years his ability to read Ben like an open book has slipped somewhat, so it’s hard to be sure. Once he’s climbed the stairs and retreated into his room, however, Klaus knows he’s sailing free, and as he firmly shuts his door, he can’t help but let out a long, shivery breath.

The keyring is still in his hand.

He wants to chuck it out the window, and that’s so, _so_ wrong of him. 

Klaus shouldn’t be feeling things like this, the distaste, the resentment, the sour curl of bitterness stinging his tongue, comparing the son he had before to the one he has now, but he can’t help it. There are more comparisons than he can properly count, all stemmed from having a bigger home with more love to give, and the freedom to grow up with a childhood unbound from financial worries and fears of their beds getting infested with creepy crawlies.

Five from before knew hardships, and going without, and watching his Dad not eat so he could.

The new Five knows he has Aunts and Uncles and a Grandmother to rely on should he ever need it and that there will always be food in the pantry and fresh bedding in the cupboards.

There is a thudding in Klaus’ chest, heavy like tar dripping into his body, as if a sledgehammer is being steadily whacked against the fragile bones encasing his heart.

He misses his little boy.

He misses his little boy that _he_ raised, that _he_ saw from infant to almost-teenager alone, single-handed, without the offers of help and love he receives now.

None of them cared, back then, none of them asked after their brother who ran away as a teenager with a basically new-born infant or sought him out once they’d fledged the nest. There had been no letters, no phone calls, no attempts to find his address and pop round for a drink and catchup. They had a _nephew_, a blood relative, a little boy in their crooked family tree that shone brighter than sunshine and did the unthinkable by being the reason Klaus became clean.

Yet despite that, they'd abandoned him.

A brief inquiry from Diego in an awkward car ride, and a revealing, exposing passage of text in Vanya’s book.

That was how much Klaus’ son had been worth to them all.

At one point, when Klaus heard Allison was now a mother (through many grapevines and after finding a week-old magazine in the back of Mr Adam’s shop) he wondered if that might spur her on to get in contact. She had the money for it, and the resources to try and track him down, Klaus had hardly been hiding his address, but as days turned into months and then years he realised that no, he was still as low a priority to his family as ever.

Why would having a child of your own make someone realise that, hey, didn’t their brother run away with nowhere to go? Wasn’t he clueless on how to raise a child? Hadn’t he been an addict only weeks beforehand?

Klaus wasn’t worth it.

Things have changed, now. Luther and Diego and Allison and Vanya and even Ben are all trying to be better people, to make their previous wrongs right and learn from their mistakes. They are helping him, offering hands where needed, listening to him for the first time ever.

Whispering about him behind his back.

Klaus is not ignorant; he knows there are opinions circling about him and how he’s raising Five.

Why, though, did their retry, their privileged do-over at life, have to cost Klaus his son? Why did it have to swipe away the boy he poured his life into raising, only to lose him and gain a new one to be brought up by a collective?

Allison would really, really, hate him for this, for these feelings sitting like dank water at a bottom of a well in the pit of his stomach. She lost her daughter, in every sense of the word. She had no goodbyes, no final hugs, no promises that no matter what, they would see one another again. Klaus is everything she isn’t, and despite what she says, he knows that somewhere, even if it is deep down, she will always harbour a sour streak because of it.

Klaus got Five back.

Klaus got Five back, not _his_ Five, but still _a_ Five, still a boy he can love and hold and protect from the dark corners of his mind.

The wretched taste of guilt rises up the back of his throat, coating Klaus tongue.

It always follows these moments of utter grief, like a bad meal repeating on him, prodding at his pathetically stupid brain and sliding into his thoughts. It calls him out at his own selfishness, Klaus’ greed at wanting to pick and chose his children when Five did what he did to _save the world_, to save thousands of other fathers and sons both in the present and in times to come. 

He is being stupid, startling over a silly keyring like he is, letting paranoia and doubt circle his head when everything he ever wanted was right there in front of him. Jumping at shadows will get him nowhere, making mountains out of molehills won’t help anyone, and really Klaus should stop snivelling pathetically like the overdramatic idiot and get on with it.

They are going to the park. 

They are all going to have a lovely time. 

Klaus will take a camera and get some good family snaps to frame on their walls. Mom likes to feed the ducks, and eight is an age where Five still finds doing that kind of thing is fun. He will love it, and Ben will grin, and Klaus will _smile_.

Bury out the bad memories with the good. Fill his head with bright adventures.

Hot beads burn down Klaus’ cheeks, and he swipes them away, belatedly realising that the gesture has smeared glitter from the keyring across his face. A heave bubbles up his throat, acidic and gross, and he forces back down, back among the tar and the putrefying water well.

Klaus is purposefully gentle as he sets the keyring down on his bedside table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is awesome~
> 
> Everything is cool when you're part of a team~
> 
> (Though, apparently not parenting...)


	17. 4th February 2015

****

**4th February 2015**

Sometimes, Five does not understand Mrs Fredrick.

Most days, Five finds her cool. In fact, he would go as far as to say that she is one of his favourite teachers. Unlike Mr Simpson in music, or Miss Poole in French, or Mr Thomas who oversees the sports field with as much menace as a seasoned gladiator entering the arena, Mrs Fredrick does not rule her class with an iron fist, nor does she watch them with beady eyes and make the kids at the front fear for their mortal souls.

Dad says that kind of thing must be the norm for rich schools, because the parents pay so much to send their kids there and therefore expect results. However, considering Dad never went to school and, as far as Five knows, never set foot in one until halfway through his first semester, he is less than convinced.

Mrs Fredrick teaches science, which automatically puts her in Five’s good books anyway, but instead of being boring about it, setting them up with worksheets and making them to read one by one from books like Mr Rodgers does in English, she lets them _experiment_. She brings out boxes of beakers and goggles and ear defenders, lets them pull down the Bunsen burners from the shelves and crowd her desk as she talks them through chemicals and maths.

Five likes maths. Loves it, in fact, but as hard as Miss Rodgers (no relation or relationship with Mr Rodgers, they were all told very sternly on the first day) tries, she cannot top the day where Five and his classmates got to make something explode and were not scolded for it afterwards.

Despite this, there is always bad with the good, and as much as Five normally enjoys the homework he gets set, today Mrs Fredrick was obviously in one of her weirder moods where she tries to get them to think outside the box.

_Based on current science, what inventions and technology do you believe will be available in the future and why?_

His teacher is likely probing to get them into talking about hover boards and spaceships so she can do a lesson on gravity or space or the lack of new talent going into STEM subjects. Some of the other kids, Five imagines, are probably eating this up, maybe even doodling little pictures to demonstrate their answers and colouring them in.

Five is useless at this kind of thing.

He likes problems and solutions, hard facts which are unmovable under pressure and bring out solid answers. It is the reason why he hates English so much, because that is all about interpretation and no answer is either right or wrong (minus spelling). 

This teeters too close to the English side of things for him to be comfortable.

He is not a current scientist, how is he supposed to know what is in the works, what is planned to come out in the next few years and revolutionise the world they live in? A new style of TV? Gum that can taste of anything? Shoes which tie themselves? There are a ton of possibilities out there, and Five is no magician who can see into the future.

“If the wind changes, your face will get stuck like that.”

“Hm?”

Glancing up from the coffee table, Five blinks as two of his Uncles enter the room, Uncle Ben sliding into a chair opposite with a teasing smirk while Uncle Diego stiffly settles on the couch behind him, no doubt sore from a day at the Police Academy. It must be one of the nights where he comes home for dinner, instead of staying and eating with his buddies.

There is a girl he has his eye on, he keeps mentioning her. Five does not know her name. Everyone else seems to, though.

“What’s got you thinking so hard, kiddo?” Uncle Diego asks, leaning back into the cushions and closing his eyes.

Five shrugs. “Science homework.”

“Oh? Not borrowing Einstein’s brain tonight, then?” Uncle Ben folds his arms, watching him.

“That’d be gross, and this isn’t _proper_ science. It’s…” Five waves his hands around. “Hypothetical.”

“Ain’t all science _hypothetical?”_ Uncle Diego asks without moving.

Frowning, Five glares at him, though it goes unseen. “No. Even all the complicated stuff can still be proved somehow, with experiments and math and things. This is stupid.”

“I’m sure your teacher has a reason to set it.” Uncle Ben says, leaning forward to peer at his piece of paper. “What do you have to do?”

Five reads out the question and raises an eyebrow up at his Uncle. “Do you have any ideas?”

Lips thin, Uncle Ben sways his body side to side absently, clearing working the question over in his head. His eyes go a little foggy because of it, staring downwards without seeing.

Twisting, Five finds Uncle Diego now looking forward, watching his brother with a furrowed brow.

“Um,” Uncle Ben starts, and then falters briefly before suggesting, “What about looking to see what’s been brought out in the last year or so and going from that? The library has these new computers, huge box things, they are.” He makes a gesture with his hands to demonstrate.

“You’d say computers, then?” Five asks, tilting his head to the side. He does not miss how Uncle Ben’s shoulders rise slightly, and scowls. “What? That’s what you said. Your library got new computers, so in the future there’s probably going to be more of those.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Uncle Diego clears his throat. “Yep, makes sense, bro. It normally all goes like that.”

Five gets the sense that something important just flew over his head, and sits up a little straighter, glancing from Uncle Ben to Uncle Diego, and then back again. After a long pause drags out, no one apparently wanting to make eye contact with him, Five ducks his head and silently write out ‘computers’ as a bullet point to expand upon later.

Licking his lips, Five peers up at Uncle Diego. “What about the Police Academy? They must have all kinds of tech.”

Slumping down a little further on the couch, Uncle Diego hums unhelpfully.

Five just catches Uncle Ben mouth something out the corner of his eye but does not turn his head in time to catch it. He goes to ask.

“Tasers?” Uncle Diego cuts in, his voice tilting upwards at the end to make it a question rather than a solid suggestion. “The force used to use these really old ones, several volts over what was recommended and dodgy as f-” At a cough from Uncle Ben, Uncle Diego redirects, “Hell to use. We don’t have them now, though, we got this new batch to test a month or so ago.”

“I guess…” Five glances down at his homework. “I mean, it would make sense that law enforcement would develop new things to catch people.”

“Yep.” Uncle Diego pops the ‘p’. “Think you’ve got enough with that?”

Five blinks. “Um, I suppose-”

“Cool.” Uncle Ben nods, casually rising and sticking his hands in his pockets. “Hey, why don’t you finish up, and me and your Uncle will help your Grandma with dinner? It should be ready soon, but I think she’s made enough to feed a small army.”

Uncle Diego groans at the suggestion but stands anyway, letting Uncle Ben reach over and snag his elbow. The two barely wait for Five’s response before they make their exit, and a whisper passes between them too quiet for him to hear. 

Their footsteps retreat down the corridor.

Five sits on the carpet, pen limp in his hand and staring after them. A light frown tugs down his brows, and his lips thin.

A wiggle of something twists in his gut, jittery and uncomfortable, and Five brings his legs up so pin them between the edge of the table and his chest. He forces the feeling away, shoves it down, drowns it in his stomach acid. The pen leaves indents in his skin from how tightly he grasps it.

There is a dryness of his mouth, and Five swallows.

The points his Uncles suggested sit blandly on the paper in front of him, dull and uninteresting and while perfectly valid ideas, bizarrely muted for what Five was expecting. That is not to say that his relations are wild and eccentric, if asked, _Dad_ would be the one more likely to bring up ideas of devices that cook food instantly or personalised flying machines, but Uncle Ben and Uncle Diego are far from being the most level-headed of Five’s family.

He thought, maybe, they would have fun with the idea before _actually_ helping him. Normally they would, when they lend a hand with his English homework or help him design a poster for a group project. Last year, Uncle Diego and Uncle Luther helped him build a volcano for geography and managed to get the living room soaked when they mixed soda with mentos during a test run.

This time, however, they ran away as soon as they could.

Down in the kitchen, there is the low hum of voices talking, discussing things they do not want the rest of the house to hear. Five is well acquainted with at noise, a fact that he had, up until now, always thought meant his family was mentioning his Grandfather, or topics not meant for children.

That is what Dad always told him, whenever Five woke up in the night and found the other bedrooms empty. He would say that sometimes adults have to talk about boring stuff, and that it is better not to think about it, or he would be bored as well.

“Don’t worry your little head.” Dad had said years ago, after a nightmare which left Five crying. “There’s much nicer things you get to think about anyway. We’re going to the pool in two days, remember?”

Grandma’s voice joins Uncle Ben’s and Uncle Diego’s, soft and even harder to hear through the multiple layers of wood and carpet between them.

Five glares at the paper, as if this uncomfortable feeling is its fault.

It is only the stupid future; it is not like Five was asked to go poking into all the Umbrella Academy stuff. _That_ would be like sticking his head into the open mouth of a lion that is well trained but acts up when it feels like it.

Five is nine, now, meaning his Aunts and Uncles no longer dupe him into switching subjects and instead just blatantly tell him not to ask.

So, he leaves it be.

Which is why it is confusing that his Uncles apparently do not like the subject of _the future_, either. There is nothing wrong with the future, it has not happened yet. It is untouchable to the average person, impossible to reach forward and grab the same way someone can latch onto the past.

Though, as Five starts to absently run his pen along the ‘c’ of the word ‘computers’ over and over again, thickening the line, he knows that is not entirely true either.

Numbers run everything.

The universe is made of set truths, it is the reason why Five likes science and maths so much. Even if he cannot see forward, he could, theoretically, still predict the impact of a dying star, or the outcomes of a meteor hitting the Earth. The numbers never lie, nor do the solid actions and reactions ingrained in the essence of everything ever.

They make up everything around them, even the abstract stuff like reality, space, time, place, everything that puts them where they are today.

When he was little and did not know any better, Five used to think his powers happened by chance, that he inherited some kind of magical gene which would grant his wishes and obey his command. Now that he is older, he understands that is fanciful nonsense.

Open, travel, close.

Five has been jumping through reality since he was five, tearing space apart, bouncing through, and reappearing where he wants the other side. It all runs on numbers, complex math, and the narrower he can pin down his margin of error the closer he can get to landing where he wants. The broader he leaves it, the more likely Five is to simply arrive in the general area of a place and be made to walk the rest of the way.

Dad says he should not worry about it too much, because neither he nor his Aunts and Uncles do. Their powers are there, and they deal with them the best they can, there is no need to go prodding things which may not like the attention.

Five thinks Dad just has the wrong type of powers.

Uncle Ben, on the other hand, has the _right_ kind.

Open, travel, close. Only his ‘travel’ is less to do with him and more to do with _The Horror_ reaching through from another dimension, making his Uncle skittish rather than fascinated. If Five had the right level of education, he could try and figure out how that works, what wonky numbers went wrong in his Uncle’s stomach to leave him a gateway to proof that they are not alone in the universe.

Perhaps it is the same wonky numbers which let Five tear the universe apart and jump through, only in a more permanent, uncontrollable form. Maybe they are unstable, or off by half a percentage, or need a little extra input to level out.

Without really meaning to, Five starts doodling numbers, threes and twelves and forty-twos and thirty-sevens, spiralling around his page in a crooked boarder.

The universe is made of maths, and Five jumps through said maths to get wherever he wants whenever he fancies.

He knows time travel is not impossible, just that the average person does not have the means to do it.

Putting down the pen, Five blinks down at his hands, summoning the familiar blue he has known for most of his life. It sparks around his fingers, sitting there against his skin like a thrumming glove, static dancing over his nails and lightning circling his wrists. It sings with possibilities, with promises, with _what ifs_ and _I coulds_ and, very softly, _go on_.

Perhaps, Five muses quietly, sat alone in the living room with his family elsewhere, he is a little more than the average person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diego, downstairs: Did we get away with it? Are we good? Did he believe us?
> 
> Ben: Bro, we were so smooth, he doesn't suspect a thing!


	18. 11th July 2016

****

**11th July 2016**

“Grandpa?”

“Hm?”

“Do you need to sit down?”

Huffing a breath, Grandpa waves Five off, leaning a little heavier on his cane. A sheen of sweat covers the elderly man’s brow, though if that is from the July heat or the fact that they have been walking for twenty minutes Five is not sure. Maybe it is both.

It does not help that his Grandpa is wearing a knitted argyle vest over his buttoned shirt, complete with the green and red bowtie Five brought him for Christmas last year. Every time they have seen each other since, Grandpa has insisted on wearing it.

“I’m not going to conk out of you yet, son, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Grandpa says good-naturedly, patting Five’s back. They very nearly stand shoulder to shoulder now that Five is ten, aided somewhat by the older man’s increasingly hunched spine. “There’s still life in this dinosaur.”

Five holds onto the straps of his backpack, chewing on his lip. “I’m more worried that you’re going to fall on your way back.” He says, briefly glancing down the street behind them.

Mom works in a tearoom called _Everything Nice_. It is small, reliant on the regular custom of locals rather than the tourist trade, but it makes for a good meeting place, conveniently equal distance between home and her and Grandpa’s apartment. Whenever Mom has to babysit him (even though Five is far from a baby and would be perfectly fine _without_ a sitter) Mom’s boss lets Five have the small table in the corner by the window, occasionally letting Five have his pick of the leftover muffins before the go stale.

Today, Grandpa is walking him back from a weekend spent with them, having dropped Mom off on the way and grabbing two gingerbreads to go. Five saved half of his and stored it in his backpack. He has every plan to nibble it in his room after dinner.

Mopping his forehead lightly with a handkerchief, Grandpa clears his throat and tucks it into the breast pocket of his shirt. “Come on, son, we’re nearly there. Your Dad will be wondering where we’ve got to.”

Five makes a somewhat begrudging noise at that, and they continue on.

Dad always gets clingy whenever he spends the weekend with Mom, even though Five has been doing it twice a month since he was six. His hugs are always a bit too tight just before he leaves, and he still makes a point at waving them off.

It was fine when Five was younger, but he is nearly a _teenager_ now. It is embarrassing.

Not to mention Dad always makes him promise to call, using Mom and Grandpa’s old telephone that crackles with static, the cable now straightened from how many times Five has pressed out the curls. Sometimes Dad just wants to know that they arrived at the apartment fine, but sometimes he keeps Five on the phone for half an hour or more, wanting to know every detail of how he spent his day. It is as if he believes something terrible might happen in brief moments they are apart.

Five _likes_ spending the weekends at Mom and Grandpa’s. He likes sleeping on the well-worn couch, with the blue blanket that scratches and the pillows with thinning covers. His bedroom at home is cool, he has all his posters and toys and things collected over the years, but there is something about sleeping in the living room, waking when someone starts pottering around the kitchen and getting first dibs on pancakes, that simply beats his usual bed and four walls.

It is hardly like he is spending the weekend with strangers who will whisk him away to never be seen again.

The apartment is nicer than home as well. The rooms are not large, with high ceilings and locked doors and big, empty spaces. Instead they are small, a little lopsided, with picture frames littering every surface filled with faces Five’s never met but has heard about anyway. There is his other Uncle, who Mom does not like to talk about, and a few of the wedding of Grandpa’s niece who moved to Australia eight years ago, and his Grandparents who died before Five was born.

Technically, Grandpa is his _Great_-Grandpa, but Grandpa said that was a mouthful and not to bother.

The apartment has other things as well, items which are fun to look at and poke, but unlike at home Five does not get told off for doing so. Grandpa tells him to be careful, especially with a few things because they are precious and old, but Five still gets to have a proper look.

There is the wooden spear Grandpa insists he brought in Africa, but Mom says came from a bargain shop the other side of the city, and the old hiking gear with the large goggles and fur-lined hat. There is the pair of red satin heels which Five thinks used to belong to his Grandmother because Mom gets sad any time he asks, and what must be at least a thousand books, all lining the walls on specially made shelves.

The books are nothing like the ones in the library at home. Those are academic, important, with multiple authors and entire sections at the back for the definitions of words and listed sources.

The books Grandpa and Mom own are ancient, collector’s items, poems and plays and monologues written by people who have not lived for hundreds of years with words going unread for just as long.

Dad says those are the worst kinds of ghosts, and that they are lucky the authors do not hang around their “stuffy old works.”

Five thinks it would be cool to meet Shakespeare.

Whenever he pulls one of the books down from a shelf and climbs into Grandpa’s old armchair to peer through, the pages are always a fragile yellow, creaking as he turns them over in a feather light touch. Sometimes they have stains inside, either miscellaneous and better not to think about or the circular rings of mugs where a previous owner has not cared as much as Grandpa. Occasionally bugs which were crawling around the sentences can be found smeared over an apostrophe or exclamation mark.

“No care.” Grandpa says, whenever Five comes across another blemish. “No care for the things they owned. It’s disgraceful.”

The books make the apartment smell. It is a familiar, musty scent of worn paper and leather hardbacks, and it lingers now to Grandpa’s shirt as Five inches a little closer, looping his arm around Grandpa’s elbow.

“I’m alright, I’m alright.”

“Maybe _I_ want the support.”

Grandpa laughs. “A strapping young man like you? You could fly to Congo and back before I even made it down the street.”

“I could.” Five hums, even though a voice in the back of his head tells him he would pass out before he so much as reached the ocean. “But it’d be boring on my own. I’d rather have someone with me, even if it means I have to sit on a plane for hours. Have you ever been to Congo?”

Snorting, Grandpa puts on an offended air, repeating, “_Have I ever been to Congo?_ Really, Five, don’t you know anything of me?”

“I know you cheat at bingo every week.”

“Don’t you go listening to your Mother.” Grandpa points a finger at him as they turn into Five’s street. “She gets her gossip from those dithering busybodies when she picks me up. I’m not affiliated with them.”

“I don’t know, Grandpa, it sounds to me like-” Five cuts off with a yelp as his feet catch from beneath him, sending him toppling forward with next to no grace. Blue instinctively swirls around his hands, ready to bounce him off to the nearest soft surface and out of harm’s way, but Grandpa quickly snags him, dragging Five back up.

“Easy there, son, I got you.” Grandpa mutters, checking him over. Once he confirms that Five is ok, Grandpa quickly sets his stern gaze at the floor.

The floor, which just yelped back.

Five blinks at the feet sticking out from beneath a car. “Uh-”

“Don’t you have any brains?” Grandpa does not quite yell, but his voice rises enough for a few passers-by to take notice. “My grandson could’ve broken his nose!”

“Don’t shout at me!” The person returns, wiggling to climb out from under the vehicle. A head pops out, smeared with grease and oil. “Why don’t you-”

“Uncle Diego?”

“Oh, Five.” Temper instantly stated, Uncle Diego stares up at them, before suddenly realising he was arguing with Grandpa. “Uh, hi?”

Grandpa is unimpressed. “Really, young man, I’d think someone studying the law would be better than this. You could hurt someone!”

“To be honest, I hadn’t actually planned to be under there that long.” Uncle Diego shrugs, somewhat sheepish. “Just checking a few things.”

“It’s still not good enough!”

“We’re not angry, Uncle Diego.” Five says, shaking his head slowly. “We’re just _disappointed_.” 

Uncle Diego scowls at him while Grandpa barks out a surprised laugh. “Hey, don’t use Klaus’ parenting tricks on me.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes, I feel very guilty now.” Uncle Diego states, his voice dripping with sarcasm and a smirk tugging the corner of his lips. Rolling his eyes, he climbs to his feet, snagging a spare cloth hanging out the car’s window and wiping his hands on it. “Good weekend?”

Five nods. “We managed to convince Grandpa to get pizzas the first night.”

Grandpa tuts. “Terrible, greasy things. My casserole was fine.”

“Mr King upstairs could smell it."

“That's a compliment!”

“Not when he went to call the fire department.”

Snorting, Uncle Diego tosses the rag back into the car, and Grandpa peers around him. His eyebrows raise, a sceptical expression flitting over his face.

“You…Think you’ll be able to get it going?”

The car, if it can really be called that, obviously suffered some kind of collision in its probably long life. Dents and crevices litter the bonnet, with a particularly large one cratering above the right tyre. The windows are all cloudy from rainwater and dust, and half of the paintwork has been scratched away. Inside the seats are a mess of cigarette burns, dog claw marks, and broken stitching.

“That’s the aim, eventually.”

Grandpa hums. “I’m sure there’s a plenty of perfectly decent cars on the market…”

“I need a project, to be honest.” Uncle Diego leans back against it, crossing his arms as the car rocks on its wheels. “Keep’s my hands busy, y’know? Also, it’s a nice little distraction from the madhouse.”

“The mad-”

“Five, you’re back!” The voice of Dad interrupts, and Five suppresses a groan as the doors to the house swing open. Dad comes scurrying down the steps, wrapping his arms tightly around Five’s shoulders and all but planting him straight into his chest. Dad smells of the corner shop and lemons.

Five stands in the hold stiffly, going with it in the hopes of getting Dad to let go sooner.

“Hi.”

“One day he’ll move out, Klaus.” Grandpa says teasingly. “Then where will you be?”

Making a small, whining noise, Dad hugs him tighter, and Five wiggles his head to send a pleading expression Uncle Diego’s way. His Uncle only grins at him, enjoying his pain. This is probably revenge for the disappointed comment.

“Don’t speak such cursed words!” Dad protests, running fingers through Five’s hair. “He’s going to stick with his old Dad for ever and ever, right Five?” When he does not receive and answer, Dad sighs and pulls back, his hands resting on Five’s shoulders. “Since when did you get so big, anyway?”

“I’m _ten_, Dad.”

“As I keep being reminded.”

“Hormones, ahoy.” Uncle Diego comments, earning a blank stare from Five and a light groan from Dad.

Grandpa pats Five on the back. “Anyway, I better be heading off.”

“Before you go, I insist you come in for lemonade. Mom and I just made some.” Dad stops and blinks, before leaning forward to loop a finger into the collar of the knitted vest top. “And you really shouldn’t be wearing that in this heat!”

“It’s not so bad-”

“You need to sit down for a while, Grandpa.” Five pipes up, holding onto his backpack straps. “You got wobbly walking here.”

Grandpa fixes Five with a look that pretends to be frustrated. “I’m not angry…”

“Nope, you’re having a break here then Diego can give you a lift.” Dad instructs firmly, taking Grandpa’s arm. “Not just my orders. I’m talking from beyond the grave. C’mon.”

Grandpa sighs, letting Dad guide him up the steps and into the house. From where he stands Five can hear Grandma humming inside. She makes a pleased noise when she sees them enter.

Uncle Diego claps his hands, making Five jump. “Welp, guess I better go get the keys. Can’t go driving this yet.”

“When will you?”

“Don’t know. I don’t have the keys, so I’ll have to work-”

“You don’t have the _keys?”_ Five repeats, blinking at Uncle Diego and then the car. “But…How are you going to lock it? Or roll up the windows? Or get it going?”

Uncle Diego taps the side of his nose. “I’ve done my fair share of hotwiring to know what I’m doing. Don’t doubt me yet.”

“Hotwiring?”

“You don’t know what that is?”

Five shakes his head.

Tutting, Uncle Diego gestures for him to follow him around to the driver’s side, opening the door with a loud squeak and squatting down. 

“Ok, so look here…”

Exactly one week later, Five manages to break down any resilience Uncle Diego has to his puppy-dog eyes, successfully convincing him to give Five driving lessons.

“Please don’t tell your Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the penultimate chapter, and what do I show? Uncle Diego, Grandpa Barney, and teasing, caring great-grandson Five.
> 
> Huh.


	19. 8th November 2017

****

**8th November 2017**

Five did not start the day with the aim to eavesdrop.

Listening in on other people’s conversations is not something he was ever taught. Dad actively discouraged it, and when Five was little they had several conversations about giving people space. Those conversations became more frequent when he began to spatial jump, something very much needed considering Five could accidentally appear anywhere at any time, interrupting all kinds of private discussions.

“You wouldn’t like it, would you?” Dad said one night, laid out on Five’s bed with the storybook they had been reading propped between them. “If you told me a secret, only to find out Uncle Luther was listening at the door.”

Their family has a lot of secrets.

When he was younger, Five accepted this as a fact of life. He was not spending any time at his Mom’s then, so he had no other model to go off. It seemed natural, like something every family did, and slid over him like water off a duck’s back. Only as time wore on did he notice his Aunts whispering, his Uncles second glancing, and Uncle Ben frowning unheard thoughts. 

Over the years, Five managed to accumulate snippets, small bites of information to chew over while lying in bed at night.

There were times when living in the Umbrella Academy was not nice. There were things Grandfather would force his Dad and Aunts and Uncles do which were not fun. There is something which makes Aunt Vanya go _really_ quiet and there is a reason Aunt Allison avoids the subject of children.

Uncle Luther still makes Five keep quiet about studying astronomy.

Uncle Ben dislikes staying in hotels.

Uncle Diego answers the phone quickly.

Aunt Allison rarely uses her power.

Aunt Vanya hates not using hers.

Dad gets uncomfortable being away from Five.

Dad panicked the first time Five jumped. 

Dad sometimes cries at night.

Dad gets weird when Five skips a meal because he is too focused on homework to notice the time.

Dad does not like the keyring Five brought him for Father’s Day.

Five collects them, a weird amalgamation of half-understood facts and confusing habits, all leading down rabbit holes which stretch out into entire warrens to wander and get lost in. He cannot ask, he is blatantly told not to now, but curiosity is an addictive trait and it is hard not to notice when living in the same space.

Yet despite this, Five does not eavesdrop. To do so is rude, invasive, and Five was brought up to be better than that.

So, Five did not start the day with the aim to eavesdrop.

He was breaking another rule instead.

Technically, when Uncle Luther told him not to go onto the roof all those years ago, he had been saying it to the small boy who wore crocodile slippers and still took Sir-Swims-A-Lot everywhere. He had aimed all his words of wisdom at a child who did not know how to properly control his powers and could easily wander over the edge without so much as blinking.

Five is twelve now, twelve as of _today_, and he is not a child anymore.

This left the roof for easy pickings, especially as he had been shooed upstairs so his Dad, Aunts, and Uncles could set up whatever it is they were setting up in the kitchen. One simple jump and he was there, tucked up by an air vent near the courtyard and enjoying the cool November weather.

Cloud watching is not a pastime Five often indulges in, mainly because after a set amount of time it becomes boring and dull and the clouds above the city are usually either non-existent or a giant grey mass covering the entire sky, but it does for ten minutes or so. It gets him out from underfoot and lets him breathe the not-so-fresh air of the city, clearing his mind.

Five finds he often needs to clear his mind these days.

He has a lot to think about.

It was as he was laying there, stretched out on his back with his arms behind his head, contemplating the plane flying left to right, that the door to the courtyard swung open, quickly followed by agitated and hissing voices.

“Calm down, calm down.” Aunt Vanya was saying. “Look, we can’t do this today, just-”

“Can’t do this today my ass.” Uncle Ben cut off, his tone dripping with something that made Five shrink back, shuffle on his knees so he was definitely out of sight. “He’s twelve. We shouldn’t have to be dealing with-”

Aunt Allison sighed. “Ben, stop. Drop it for now.”

“How can I drop it? He’s basically a teenager! We shouldn’t have to be walking on eggshells around him!”

“We all get it Ben, we really do.” Uncle Luther tried to soothe. “But we’re not his parents, we can’t be the ones-”

“I’m _damn_ near his parent.”

“Fine, sure, but that still doesn’t give you any right over him. Klaus is the one who decides this stuff, not you or any of us.”

“You’re lucky Diego and Mom managed to distract Klaus.” Aunt Vanya spoke up, her voice moving as she walks from one spot to another. “If Five noticed he was upset, he’d want to know why. Cool it for today, ok? Wait until Five goes to bed or something, but-”

Uncle Ben sneered. “He wouldn’t be upset if Five-”

“_Ben_.” Aunt Allison said, the warning in her tone clear.

“Dealing with Five is hard, yes,” Uncle Luther stepped in again, “We’re all struggling with it, but none of this needs to happen today.”

Footsteps crunched on the path of the courtyard. “Hard doesn’t even cover it.” Uncle Ben muttered, and then yelled, “_Fuck_ it, he’s so selfish! All this hassle, all these lies and faces we have to put on! You’d think we’d have nipped this in the bud years ago! We could’ve! But-”

“Keeping major secrets only hurts.” Aunt Vanya commented, almost absently, then added, “I get it Ben, I do, but we can’t do this now, it’s not the time or place. C’mon, we need to help Mom with the cake. Five’s still waiting for his birthday.”

“Yeah.” Uncle Ben said, bitter and seething and cross. “Yeah, ok. Five’s birthday.”

The others led him inside, and Five had peeked over the edge just in time to see the door shut.

The roof had seemed colder, once he was alone.

Five is still alone now, tucked up beside the vent and glaring hard at the horizon. Confused, hot tears streak down his face, each one getting harshly wiped on the hem of his sleeve. His teeth grit, grinding together as he stares and the buildings and skyscrapers beyond, toes curling within his shoes and firsts latching onto his elbows with a grip tight enough to bruise.

He is hard to handle.

He makes his family walk on eggshells.

His Dad is upset, and it is something to do with him.

Five is something to be _dealt with._

Everyone is struggling with him.

He is selfish.

He is a hassle.

The people he loves put on faces around him, over something they should have corrected him on years ago.

Curling up, Five tucks his knees into his chest, gnawing at his lip.

A tiny part of him wants Sir Swims-A-Lot.

Is he a hassle? Is he bad to be around? Does he make everyone walk on eggshells? Five never intends to, if he is, in fact he aims for the complete opposite. Has he done something? _Did_ he do something? If whatever has made everyone dislike him started years ago, is it his powers? His hobbies? Something he says or wears or one of the many inside jokes he has with his family?

They want to tell him, but Dad is not letting them.

Is it _that_ bad?

_Keeping major secrets only hurts_. What did Aunt Vanya mean by that? Is it truly that serious? Has Five done something seriously, utterly wrong?

Why has it been kept a secret? Is it the same kind of heavy secret that goes with Aunt Vanya’s quiet, and Uncle Diego picking up the phone quickly? Is it as heavy as Uncle Luther and the moon, and Aunt Allison and children, and Uncle Ben and hotel rooms and Dad and the keyring?

_Is_ it like Dad and the keyring?

Have they been keeping things about himself from Five for that long? Opinions and observations and comments? Why have they never said anything like this before, back when they could sort things out instead of letting the negativity build?

_Why_ do they always keep Five in the dark?

_Why_ do they tell him not to ask questions?

_Why_ does Dad seem to always have sad eyes around Five, even when he is happy, when he is clinging to him, when they are on the phone or going for a picnic in the park?

Five’s life has been built on secret upon secret upon secret. He has known this for years, witnessed it, watched as things were shut away never to be addressed. Why? Why can they not trust him? He is family, the _only_ blood relative out of all of them, why does that disqualify him? Why does that single him out instead?

Why do they skirt around topics, and hurry out the room, and distract with other subjects? What are they so scared of him finding out? What truth is it?

Dad has always told Five off. The fuzzy memories of sitting in the Naughty Chair prove that. If Five was doing something hurtful, something truly bad that upset others, there is no way Dad would not intervene and put Five right.

Is Dad in the wrong as well? Are they both bad?

Will Five be forgiven?

Heels disturb the gravel on the roof behind him, and Five swipes at his cheeks, sniffing before turning to face whoever has found him with stiff shoulders.

Instantly, he relaxes, climbing to his feet as blue eyes scan him critically up and down, taking in the dust on his trousers and streaks down his face. Clearing out the lump in his throat, Five attempts to clean himself up a bit, suddenly embarrassed at being found in such a sorry, unsightly state. His cheeks heat a little at the thought.

He is twelve now, not a baby, and today is his _birthday_. Five should be happy, grateful, he even has his family downstairs arranging a small “surprise” party. The smell of cake has been filling their home all morning.

“Five?”

“Um-”

“You’re upset.”

“It’s nothing.” He quickly tries to brush off, fingers fiddling with his sleeve. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Without say a word, arms open up, a silent, welcoming invitation that takes Five all of two seconds to accept. He jumps across the space between them, landing and flinging his arms around her waist, a shaky, pathetic gulp of air hissing through his teeth as hands press gently against his back.

She hums lightly, brushing fingers through his hair.

“Hi, Handler.”

“Talk to me, Five. You know you can tell me anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have spent the last few months waiting for someone to call me out on the fact that Five never dealt with the Commission in Timeline One. Because, yeah, this boy didn’t. Klaus never got the briefcase and left for Vietnam, meaning Hazel and Cha-Cha never lost theirs, so Five never had to trick them with a fake one and never got zapped away by the Handler to go cause chaos at headquarters.
> 
> Five never dealt with the Commission.
> 
> And having watched them bounce back to the past to fix things, there was no way the Commission was ever going to let the Hargreeves sit back and play happy families in an apocalypse-free world, now was there?
> 
> Also just to make this clear: Luther, Ben, Allison, and Vanya are discussing how they don’t like keeping secrets, how they’re struggling with Five because they know he’s picking up on things, and how angry they are with Klaus still who refuses to let them tell Five anything. They are skipping between who they are talking about, meaning to Five is sounds like it’s ALL about him when in fact the anger is directed at their brother.
> 
> [come yell at me on Tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


End file.
